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Margaret Gray 




©Imtoooli 


. BY 

ANNA KATHAt^INE WHITING 

»» 



THE C M. CLARK PUBLISHING CO. 
BOSTON. MASS., U. S. A. 

1907 



LIBRARY of CONGRESS 
Two Copy Riceived 

NOV 12 I90r 

Cepyrlcnt Entry 
CLASS ^ XXCi Ne< 
COFY •/ 


Copyright, 1 907 . 

By 

THE C. M. CLARK. PUBLISHING CO., 
Boston, Massachusetts, 

U. S. A. 


All Rights Reserved, 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER I. 

PAGE 


Margaret Gray is Urged to Marry Against Her Will 9 

CHAPTER II. 

Refusing to Marry, Margaret is Sent to Lowell 31 

CHAPTER HI. 

The History and Life of Margaret’s Mother 39 

CHAPTER rV. 

Jacob Gray’s Second Wife 48 

CHAPTER V. 

Margaret’s Preparation for Going to Lowell 64 

CHAPTER VI. 

The Journey to Lowell and the Company by the Way 61 

CHAPTER VIL 

Margaret Relating Something of Her History 80 

CHAPTER VIII. 

Wooing, and a Wedding at a Wayside Inn 95 

CHAPTER IX. 

Bridal Trip to New York, Lowell and Boston 122 

V 


VI 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER X. 

PAOB. 

Margaret Sees Her New Home— Dinah Drives Pete into Work.. 129 
CHAPTER XI. 

Margaret and Her Husband at Niagara Falls 142 

CHAPTER XII. 

Margaret’s Story while Resting at a Wayside Station 149 

CHAPTER XIII. 

A Wedding Party at Glenwood 158 

CHAPTER XIV. 

Shadows Dispersed by Margaret 162 

CHAPTER XV. 

Mrs. Glenwood Lectures Her Son 169 

CHAPTER XVI. 

Margaret’s Ministrations at the Bedside of Mrs. Blair 180 

CHAPTER XVII. 

A Present Sent to Margaret’s Old Home 304 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

A Christmas Present at the Parsonage and a Wedding Party 208 

CHAPTER XIX. 

Trouble at Glenwood 216 

CHAPTER XX. 

A Visitor in Margaret’s Sick Room 344 

CHAPTER XXI. 

Mrs. Glenwood and Margaret at the Seaside 261 


CONTENTS. vii 

CHAPTER XXII. 

PAGE. 

Death of May Shirling— A Son and Heir at Glenwood 265 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

Dinah and Pete Quarrel Over the New Baby 276 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

A Visit to the Parsonage and at the Grave of Margaret’s Mother. 280 
CHAPTER XXV. 

Mischief in Soft Soap, and in the Bread and Pancakes 294 

CHAPTER XXVI. 

Baby Roscoe 304 

CHAPTER XXVII. 

Pete Announces His Engagement and Dances with Dinah 309 

CHAPTER XXVIII. 

The Blackbird’s Nest at Glenwood 326 

CHAPTER XXIX. 

The Return of Margaret’s Long-lost Brothers 332 

CHAPTER XXX. 

Margaret’s Brothers Visit their Birthplace 365 

CHAPTER XXXI. 

Nelson Gray’s Marriage 371 

CHAPTER XXXII. 

Lawrence Gray’s Wedding— Ralph Glenwood in Congress 383 


t 




IIvIvUSTRATIONS. 


Frontispiece Margaret Gray. 

Page. 

“ She became acquainted with Jacob Gray ” . . . 39 

“Would you mind telling us the reason why you ought 

to go to Lowell ? ” 69 'Z' 

“ Pressed her to his manly heart with a rapture of love 

and an ecstasy of joy ” 116 

“Margaret laughed mirthfully” 146 

“I have brought you some jelly that Mrs. Glenwood sent 

you” 185 

“His anxious eyes turned to look at her and tried to get 

a glimpse of hers ” 224 ^ 

325 


“ Dinah.” 



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GLENWOOD 


CHAPTER I. 

MARGARET GRAY IS URGED TO MARRY AGAINST HER WILL. 

Mother, do you think there is anything to stand in 
the way of my going to school ? There does not seem to 
be much to do in the house, and nothing out of doors, 
now that the potatoes are dug, the corn husked and the 
apples gathered.’^ 

The refined appearance of the girl contrasted strangely 
with the coarse, querulous look of the woman whom she 
addressed as mother, and whose answer came hard and 
sharp, and at first in no pleasant humor. 

“Well, I declare, Marg’et Gray! I can^t see what 
you kin be thinkin^ of, an’ you jist turned of twenty, an’ 
talkin’ of goin’ ter school as if you wan’t mor’n ten or 
a dozen year old. One would think yer pa was a rich 
man, an’ had nothin’ ter do but support you, an’ git 
you a pianner in the bargain.” 

“ ISTo, mother, I can do very well without the piano. 

I never expected to have one, but I do want to go to 
school.” 

The speaker was a pale, slender girl of medium height, 
with a fair, though not really beautiful face, yet there . 
9 


10 


GLENWOOD. 


was more than beautj in it, with its pure spiritual ex- 
pression, revealing great depth and sweetness of soul, 
that beamed from a pair of magnificent dark eyes, which 
were the chief charm and beauty of the sweet young 
face. The constantly changing expression of counte- 
nance told the workings of the busy brain, and some- 
thing of the chastening of early sorrow which had been 
chiseling deep channels of thought and feeling, un- 
known to other girls of her age, who have basked in the 
smile of a mother’s love and tenderness. 

Her face was unusually sad and pale, and wore a 
wan and weary expression which told of heartache and 
hopelessness. She had been taking a survey of life, in 
the past, present and future, and saw no brightness nor 
beauty in it, and no place nor position for herself, which 
caused her to wonder why she had been created. With 
the expression of sadness was a look of patience, pitiful 
to behold, as if life were too hard for her. She had been 
learning woman’s art of silent endurance, and, in the 
presence of others, had taught herself to wear the smile 
born of pride, that will not let the world see that her 
heart aches and suffers. 

You act as if you was clean starved ter death fur 
lamin’,” said Mrs. Gray. “ I should think you had got 
sick an’ tired of yer everlasting studying, afore this 
time of life. You hev allers been at it, arley an’ late, 
every spare minit, even when you are at yer work ; so 
what kin you want more ? Sich books, an’ sich ologies 
as you hev been at, wouldn’t be of no use ter anybody, 
’cept they wanted ter teach school. Even then, I don’t 
bleeve in puttin’ that kind of bosh inter children’s 
heads.” 

“ Ologies won’t hurt me, mother. I only want to go 
to school this winter.” 


GLENWOOD. 


11 


“ I allers thought it was a shaller streak in you, Mar- 
g’et, though you ain't anybody's fool," said the step- 
mother, ignoring Margaret's reply. “ I hev let you do 
as you pleased about your craze fur laming, 'cause you 
never neglected nothin' else, an' never shirked anything, 
in the house, nor out of it ; nor even on the farm." 

“ Perhaps it is shallow in me," was the patient an- 
swer, “ but I never thought of it in that light. I wanted 
an education. I have nothing else, and that is some- 
thing that will last for life, unless I lose my reason. I 
have tried not to give you occasion to think me selfish 
or neglectful of any other duty, on that account." 

“ I hain't got no cause ter complain of you, Marg'et, 
so I hain’t set myself again yer notions, in that line. 
I must own up, that you hev allers been a good girl, an' 
haint never made me no trouble.” Her voice softened 
into something like tenderness, as she added, I know 
you hev hated this kind of life, as I hev, though you 
haint said much agin it, an’ haint gone whinin’ out of 
the house, talkin’ agin me, as some would a done. I hev 
noticed you've allers put on a smilin' face afore folk; 
jist as a body puts on their best gowns fur company, or 
at any rate, hev looked an' acted pleasant, which is the 
right kind of perliteness. I spoze folks arter be jist so 
at home, but I can’t do it, as you hev. I’ve allers been 
proud of you, Marg’et. You hain't put on the look of a 
crucified saint, as if you wanted ter git somebody ter 
ask you questions an' get somebody blamed. There is 
allers long noses enough ter pry inter folkses business, 
an' they're glad ter find suthin’ ter make a fuss about. 
I hate the hull crew of 'em, clean through.” 

“ I have never thought of saying anything, nor even 
giving a look or word that could be construed in the 
way you mention.” 


12 


GLENWOOD. 


“ I know you haint. Yer heart would be too good, 
even if Satan put it inter yer head. You haint never 
vexed me with cross, surly looks, nor sassy words, 
nuther. IVe been cross enough, myself, massy knows; 
with sich a man, an’ sich a brood of children, an’ nothin’ 
ter Jseep them on — ’ceptin’ what the farm raises — weeds, 
like inullins an’ burdocks, an’ sich kind of crops as 
grows on a lazy man’s land. Yer pa’s children aught 
to brought their livin’ with ’em, when they came. He’s 
allers as cross as a settin’ hen, an’ wears a face like a 
funeral, when he might make things different, if he was 
half a man. He can’t lay it all ter me ; for he wan’t no 
better, when he had the best womem in the world. I’ll 
say that fur her that’s dead an’ gone, if I die fur it.” 

Margaret’s eyes moistened at the tribute paid to her 
mother, who was truly worthy of all praise, and who 
was still mourned by the sorrowing girl with passionate 
intensity. 

“ We might as well save our breath,” sighed Mar- 
garet. “ It has never made any difference in the dis- 
quiet and wretched poverty and want. I would gladly 
make it better, if I could. I have tried to do it with 
work, here at home, but it is money that is needed, and 
that is why I wanted to go to school to this new teacher. 
I could learn from him something of the method of 
teaching, so that I might apply for a position, and make 
it available for us all. I could pass an examination at 
any time, I am sure. They say that this Mr. Stanton 
has a fine education, and only took the school to finish 
paying his way through college.” 

“ He’ll arn his money, I’m thinkin’,” was the grim, 
half humorous rejoinder. “ I should reckon that sich 
a school would fit him for t’other place, instid of college. 
The young ones don’t get brought up at home, nor half 


GLENWOOD. 


13 


licked; so it makes it a laborin’ man’s business ter do 
anything with ’em in school. But it ain’t teachin’ you 
want, Marg’et ; an’ I don’t orter pity you. You might 
get married, out of all this Bedlam here; but you may 
think as I do, I needn’t married inter it. I’m likely 
ter git my pay fur it, ter the eend of the chapter, 
’cause I was sich a fool as ter expect anything else of 
sich a man ; but that needn’t keep you inter it, always. 
I’ve tried ter preach you a different lesson. You could 
take your pick of the likeliest young fellers in all these 
parts; an’ you know it. You needn’t be so shy and 
stuck up, as if none on ’em are good enough fur ye.” 

Please, mother, don’t talk of it any more,” inter- 
rupted Margaret. 

“ It’s the very thing to talk of, at your age,” replied 
her stepmother. “ I was mad as pizen, an’ jist b’ilin’ 
over, when Eeube Brown came to see you t’other night, 
an’ two or three times afore, an’ you sarved him the trick 
of bein’ freezin’ perlite, with yer head high in the air, 
an’ sayin’ little or nothin’, an’ then tell him good night, 
and clear out to bed, long afore bed-time, as soon as me 
an’ yer pa left the room. Sich things don’t bring good 
luck in the marryin’ line, an’ you’ll find it out so.” 

“ Never mind, mother, I am willing to bear all the 
ill luck that will ever come of it,” was Margaret’s reply, 
with a look in her face that told how weary she was of 
the whole subject. 

“ You can’t afford to throw away sich chances, an’ you 
orter see it, yourself. You’ll be sorry fur it, some time, 
when it’s ter late. You act as if you’d druther be a 
pauper, all yer life, than to try an’ better yer condition 
by marryin’ fur it — an’ jist ter think of him, with sich 
a farm, an’ plenty of stock onto it, an’ money out on 
interest. 


14 


GLENWOOD. 


What if he is a little oldish, side of you ? He’ll die 
the sooner, an’ you would be the richest widder in all 
these parts; an’ if that ain’t worth strivin’ fur, I don’t 
know what is! If I’d had sich a chance, I wouldn’t 
waited as I did, an’ then marry Jacob Gray at last.” 

“ O, mother ! How can you talk so ? It makes me 
shudder,” was Margaret’s astonished reply, with tears 
held back till they burned her eyeballs. 

I’m only telling you the truth. Reube sot his mind 
on havin’ you, afore you was growed up. He often said 
you was the smartest an’ han’somest girl in the county, 
an’ he was bound to have you. He tole me he had kept 
an eye on ye, ever since he fust seen ye hoe taters in the 
lot side of the barn; an’ that’s four or five years ago. 
He said you could rake more hay, an’ do more of sich 
kinds of work than any man, though he’s got sense 
enough to know that you haint got a man’s strength ; but 
you hev quicker moves, an’ that’s what tells, in the long 
run.” A look of intense disgust and scorn passed over 
the girl’s lovely face as she replied : I suppose he 

thought it would be a cheap way to obtain a house- 
keeper and a farm hand, all in one.” 

“ Don’t know,” was the sharp reply, but I do know 
that plenty of girls an’ women would jump at sich a 
chance, but Reube says he won’t have a girl that cares 
fur nothin’ but dress an’ laziness. I say again, Mar- 
g’et Gray, you are the biggest fool that ever lived, if 
you let sich a chance slip through yer fingers. Yer pa 
says that all wimmen are fools, anyhow. I told him 
I didn’t wonder he thought so, when he had found two 
on ’em that was fools enough ter marry him, an’ re- 
pent in dust an’ ashes furever arterwards. 

“But you mark my words, Marg’et Gray; sich a 
chance as this haint goin’ to last so you better shet yer 


GLENWOOD. 


15 


fist down on it, right away. Reube has got riches, an’ 
is richer every year. Plenty of women, all around here, 
hev got their eye on him, fur their own girls, an’ some 
on ’em will ketch him, if you don’t. I kin see their 
actions, an’ when sich fellers can’t git the girl they want, 
they git curious notions ; an’ ginerally marry somebody 
else, out of spite. He’ll do it too, see if he don’t, an’ 
then you’ll find out what you’ve lost ! Some folks can’t 
see the good of nothin’, till they’ve lost it. You an’ yer 
pa, are jist alike, about that. He never knowed the 
value of his fust wife, till she was gone, only he knowed 
she was ter good fur him.” 

“ A man who will marry out of spite, is a high pattern 
of manhood for a woman to trust her life to,” said Mar- 
garet, as she finished putting the last stitches in the little 
faded calico dress she was mending for one of the chil- 
dren. “ I would rather die, than marry such a speci- 
men; and besides that, I would never marry a coarse, 
uneducated man. I could not love him, and I would 
not marry without it — never ! ” 

The woman flashed at this, and retorted with blazing 
face and eyes : “ Who be you, Marg’et Gray ? It ain’t 
half the time you’ve got a decent dress ter yer back, an’ 
everybody knows it, an’ none of the rest on us neither, 
as fur that matter ; yet you stick up your nose at some 
of the best offers a girl ever had, an’ set yerself agin all 
of the likeliest fellers in these parts; as if you wasn’t 
obleeged ter git married fur a livin’ ! Yer high notions 
comes of the books you’ve allurs been studyin’ an’ foolin’ 
over, all yer life, makin’ you think yer better’n other 
folks.” 

“ I do not wish to speak disrespectfully, mother, but 
you misjudge me. My notions have not come of the 
books I have been studying, and I say most emphatically, 


16 


GLENWOOD. 


that I will never marry for a living, nor for a home. 
Others may do it, if they choose, but I shall not ! 

There was a look in Margaret’s face, and a tone of de- 
cision in her voice, that was new to her stepmother, who 
had long been vexing her with the hated subject of 
marrying against her will, and against her convictions 
of right. 

The old-fashioned clock, with the weights suspended 
by long cords, and the pendulum-rod of corresponding 
length, ticked slowly on, as if pausing between the 
strokes to listen to what was being said. 

Margaret’s sweet face and active, energetic ways had 
attracted the attention of the opposite sex, from child- 
hood up; yet her reserve and quiet demeanor caused 
many to speak of her as being “ stuck up and proud,” 
so she had but few friends or acquaintances. 

Books and study had occupied her thoughts, and 
nearly all her spare time, except what was given to 
others, where she saw there was need of her assistance, 
and yet she was not satisfied with her progress. She felt 
that the years went on faster than she advanced. She 
saw with sorrowing heart, wonderful fields of knowledge 
yet unexplored, which created an intense desire for more 
time, more study and still greater improvement. She 
was troubled at the thought that she was twenty years 
old, and had not half reached the goal of her ambition. 

Though she was disappointed, she would not relin- 
quish her efforts, because she had not the advantages 
she craved. She toiled on, and gathered the moment’s 
like grains of gold. 

The more she learned, the more she saw the need of 
hard study to make her what she wished herself to be — 
a learned and cultured woman. 

“ Everybody can’t get a chance for an edecation,” 


GLENWOOD. 


17 


said Mrs. Gray, tossing back the tangles of dust colored 
hair that had strayed from the little knot at the back 
of her head. “ It ain’t a bit like you, Marg’et, ter sniff 
at what folks can’t help. You haint never give yerself 
ter speakin’ agin folks, no matter what they be, unless 
they were wicked. You hev always been pitiful an’ ten- 
der-hearted to everybody, an’ everything that lives an’ 
breathes, ever since I first seen you, when you looked 
like a little shadder — starved to death, at that. 

“ Ho matter what you say about edecation, I kin tell 
you one thing, Marg’et Gray, the best edecation a man 
can have in this world, is to know how to arn a livin’. 

Many men know that much, even when they can’t 
read or write ; like old Ackerby. All his money is of his 
own making ; thousins an’ thousins. I thought you had 
larnt that much, from what you hev seen here at home. 
That is more’n yer pa ever knowed, old as he is. He 
never larnt anything, anyway, I don’t believe, except 
ter chaw terbacker.” 

I think as you do, mother : A man is lacking in 
one great essential of education, if he has not the knowl- 
edge that will enable him to earn an honest living. 
Without that, he ought never to marry ; yet he need not 
be brutally ignorant of everything else, nor totally lack- 
ing in refinement and culture. I have an unconquerable 
feeling of contempt for Eeube Brown, and for every 
other man of his class, with their boastful ignorance. 
I pity old people, who have had no educational ad- 
vantages, though they usually have a fund of good, sound 
sense to counterbalance it. Their quaint ways are pleas- 
ant reminders of old times, when books, schools and 
teachers were not as plentiful as they are now, and 
people had to work harder to earn a living. But young 
people, particularly men, have no excuse for ignorance. 


18 


GLENWOOD. 


They usually have their evenings and that is a great deal, 
if they care to use them for any good. It is more than 
most women and girls ever have, who lack the means of 
culture, if my observations are correct ; but with young 
men, a lack of education looks to me, like a lack of man- 
liness and honest pride.” 

“ Yer pa hain’t got no great stock of edecation, an^ 
yet yer mother married him, if she was a lady, as every- 
body says. He can’t am his own victuals an’ clothes. 
I wonder how the rest on us are ter get oum,” said 
Mrs. Gray, sadly, as she went to the little low window 
to look out at nothing in particular, except the drifting 
leaves that the wind was tossing about in a dissatisfied 
and angry way. 

“We hev got most ter the eend of everything, in the 
house, an’ out of it, an’ your pa don’t seem to care. 
He’s too everlasting cross and ugly.” 

“ My mother married him in ignorance,” said Mar- 
garet, “ and paid for it with her life ; but I shall take 
no such step with my eyes open. I have her sorrowful 
experience to warn me, and I am two years older than 
she was, when she did herself that fatal wrong. 

“ I know I must earn my own living, and I am willing 
to do it, but time goes on, and all is as dark as ever,” 
was the pitiful cry. 

“ I know you are willin’ ter work, Marg’et, fur I’ve 
never seen no shirk in you, nor laziness, nuther,” re- 
plied Mrs. Gray, with a softened look on her uncomely 
face. “ But there ain’t nothin’ you kin do to arn a 
livin’, around here; or I shouldn’t pestered you about 
getting married. You can’t hire out ter work on a farm, 
like a man, an’ nobody don’t want help in the house. 
You are slender built, anyway; with little hands and 
feet, and don’t look as if you was made fur a rough. 


GLENWOOD. 


19 


Lard life, but you’ve had ter have it, so far. It’s been 
thorns without the roses, that’s a fact ! I don’t wonder 
you hate the thought of marryin’ with all you’ve seen 
here, with poverty, scoldin’ and squallin’. 

“ If you hadn’t arnt what you did last summer, we 
wouldn’t none on us had a rag ter our backs; but be- 
cause you wasn’t here ter work on the place, there was 
a dreadful sight less raised ter live on, this winter. The 
com wan’t nothin’, on account of lack of work, an’ the 
taters is wuss yet. 

“ We hain’t never had much, with all your hard work, 
but it ain’t been your fault. If a man won’t plow and 
plant in seed time, he gits a dreadful small harvest. 
Yer pa is always goin’ ter do everything next week, an’ 
always lookin’ for excuses ter put it off till week after 
next, an’ so it has gone, till it has kivered him an’ his 
with rags. If yer mother hadn’t cleared up the debt 
on the place, so thar ain’t no rent an’ no interest ter 
pay, we’d all been in the poorhouse, long ago.” 

I know it, mother. It is hard, at best,” said Mar- 
garet, with sad eyes and quivering lips. 

Her heart seemed bursting with unshed tears, think- 
ing of the bitterness of such a life, and seeing the dark 
outlook before her. She had known for a long time 
that she was not needed at home, and had felt that on 
that account, she was not wanted, no matter how hard 
she worked nor how sparingly she ate. 

It was a forlorn looking place, though it began to 
yield good returns for the labor expended on the farm, 
before the first Mrs. Gray died. The little old shanty 
of a home needed the outlay of money for repairs, even 
when Margaret’s mother first went there to live. It 
never had been done yet, except to make it hold together, 
and keep out the wind and rain, though much of it was 


20 GLENWOOD. 

done by pasting on paper and stuffing rags in tbe boles 
and crevices. 

There was only one small window and a door in 
front, and one in each end of the lowly dwelling. It 
was but one story high, and contained a living room and 
two small bedrooms on the first floor, and an open attic 
above, with a tiny window in each end. Margaret and 
the children slept there. They had no lack of heat in 
summer, nor of biting cold in winter. Often little rifts 
of snow were on Margaret’s bed, where it had drifted 
through the warped shingles of the moss-grown roof. 

The warm nights of summer could be made more 
tolerable by removing the windows and letting a draft 
of air through, as there were no mosquitoes to whine 
their torturing cry for blood, and so drive off sleep, as 
in many of the fair portions of the world. 

The bats came in to keep the children company, but 
did no harm. They were a great delight to the little 
ones, when they found them hanging with their heads 
down, in the morning, their leather-like wings folded 
closely to their sides, taking their turn at sleep, without 
regard to what was going on around them. The chil- 
dren always laughed at their homely, wrinkled little 
faces, with the look of snarling ill-temper, which seems 
to belie their placid and inoffensive disposition. 

Dick was of the opinion that it was because they 
found it hard to get a living, and they felt badly for 
their blindness, and having to work in the night. 

The patter of the rain on the roof was music to Mar- 
garet’s ears in the wakeful hours which she spent in 
vainly trying to solve the vexed problem of life — long- 
ing to know whether it would ever be any better. The 
greater share of her thoughts, aside from books and 
study, was trying to see some way by which their cir- 


GLENWOOD. 21 

cumstances could be improved. Ponder over it as she 
would, she could devise no way, except the common one 
usual to loving daughters and sisters — teaching school 
to aid at home; and now that her one hope had been 
crushed by her stepmother, she was more dejected than 
ever. 

Margaret sighed in secret, because she was not a man, 
with a man’s strength, so that she could put a different 
face on affairs, and make the farm show up dollars and 
cents, as well as daily bread for the family. 

If things could only look differently, she thought 
she would be willing to starve, if others need not know 
it, nor suffer for it. 

Her woman’s pride suffered cruelly. It sapped her 
strength from the humiliation she had to endure. She 
wondered, as many do, of like nature — why such long- 
ings and aspirations should be implanted within them, 
only to be mocked, outraged, and starved with emptiness. 
The more her thoughts dwelt on it, the more she longed 
for the end of life, if it was to contain nothing better in 
the years to come. 

Time had rolled on, with no change in the aspect of 
affairs, except for the worse. They were not likely 
to be any better, unless she, by some means, could make 
them so. Her father would hear no suggestions from 
her, and no entreaties from his wife, to urge him to do 
better, or provide more comfortably for his family, or do 
anything at all, to make their surroundings look more 
inviting or homelike. 

Margaret longed for courage and freedom to go out 
into the world and earn a place for herself, and a better 
provision for the needs of home. She chafed against the 
barriers that stood in the way of her doing it, and now 
that she was cut off from the hope of ever teaching 


22 GLENWOOD. 

school — it was more than she could endure with resigna- 
tion. 

Her beautiful eyes often glanced at the mountains, 
outlined against the horizon, and at the peaceful repose 
of the slumbering hills, and wondered what life could 
be beyond them. She was sure that it was not there, 
the weary and wearing struggle for existence, that she 
had seen, all her life, with the fret, jar and discord, dis- 
turbing even the harmony of Nature, and making it 
a libel on Nature^s God. 

She wondered if the benediction of peace which 
seemed to rest upon those far away scenes did not also 
rest on the lives of those who dwelt among them. She 
had little time, however, for thought or dreaming, ex- 
cept when at work, or in the long hours of the night 
which sometimes brought her more sad thoughts than 
sleep and rest. 

Her naturally sunny disposition was saddened till she 
wondered at times if she had ever laughed from real 
gladness of heart. Her keen sense of humor occasionally 
sent ripples of mirth dancing over the fountain of 
unrest that filled her soul. Smiles were as natural to 
her as fragrance to violets and roses, yet there was 
so much to depress her spirits, that she had to make a 
constant effort to appear cheerful, so as not to seem sour 
and morose, as it was the nature of her father to be. 
His disappointment in not obtaining the wealth he had 
married for, in the first venture, made it doubly worse, 
in his case. 

People among whom she lived seemed to recognize 
that Margaret was not of them, any more than her 
mother had been, who in her sorrow and disappointment 
wished for seclusion and isolation, as a wounded animal 
seeks to be alone by itself to die. 


GLENWOOD. 


23 


It had been constant pain to Margaret’s feelings to 
see almost all her mother’s work obliterated. The trees, 
shrub and vines she had planted, were nearly all gone. 
Fences had been allowed to fall down and decay, with 
scarcely an effort made to repair them. Margaret’s pro- 
test and tears availed nothing. They were met with 
anger from her father, and the indifference of her step- 
mother. It did not trouble her to see the cattle browse 
the trees, nor tread the shrubbery into the ground, while 
pigs uprooted the flower beds; and the plants were 
scratched out by the hens. The flner feelings common 
to womanhood seemed foreign to Mrs. Gray’s nature. 
She saw no need of bothering with such things,” as 
she often told Margaret. 

“ But it is mother’s work that is being destroyed, and 
it hurts me through and through,” was Margaret’s heart- 
cry of distress. 

“ I spoze it does, Marg’et, but it ain’t no use ter 
worry over it. You might flght yerself to death, tryin’ 
ter save ’em from the cows and hogs, but it’s all labor 
lost. If yer pa won’t split rails an’ make fence, you 
can’t help yourself.” 

For a long time Margaret tried to repair the fences 
with sticks and rails, and carried stones, and tried to 
build stone walls, but all to no purpose. Her time and 
strength were not equal to the task, and there was none 
to help her. 

Mrs. Gray’s conversations with Margaret on mar- 
riage never failed to depress her spirits, and cause her 
deeper unrest and dissatisfaction of mind. Her step- 
mother was proud of her, and wished her to marry and 
settle near home, hoping that it might be of some bene- 
fit to her own family, in some way, through Margaret’s 
kindness of heart. She pitied the girl, even while she 


24 


GLENWOOD. 


urged her to take the step that Margaret shrank from : 
though she hoped in time that the proposition might be 
less distasteful to the step-daughter she could not help 
loving as if she were her own child. 

“ I know, Marg’et, you grieve over the way things is 
here, even if you don’t say much, while I’m jist b’ilin’ 
over, all the time, and as mad and ugly as pizen. Yer 
pa is the exasperatinest critter that ever was born. It’s 
a little ter hot, or a little ter cold, a little ter wet or a 
little ter dry. At any rate, there’s allers suthin’ in the 
way of Jacob Gray’s ever arnin’ a livin’ or ever doin’ 
anything to’wards it, except make excuses for not doin’ 
it. The way things go on here is enough to harrer a 
woman’s soul clean out of her. It makes me wish he 
would go off in the mountin’, and sleep as long as Rip 
Van Wrinkle did, that you read about, t’other night. 
I’d be amazin’ glad, at any rate, if he had Rip’s peace- 
ableness of disposition, instid of being cross enough 
to kill us all, with this everlastin’ jawin’ our daylights 
out, every time we try to get him to do a thing in 
season, for onct, just to see how it would seem. 

“ Don’t talk of it, mother. We cannot alter it,” was 
the sad rejoinder. 

“ Hear that ! ” was the abrupt turn of Mrs. Gray’s 
talk, “ I can’t bear the nasty hollerin’ of them things. 
I hate the sound of katy-dids, as bad as I hate whip-pin- 
wills,” said Mrs. Gray, as one of the little night song- 
sters began its strange, monotonous notes near the win- 
dow, in the dusk of the evening. “ Screech owls an’ 
them things is too common round our door stone. I be- 
lieve it means bad luck ; at any rate, no good luck ever 
comes here. If I was a man, I’d turn the tables dread- 
ful quick, an’ turn suthin’ up. 

“ There comes yer pa now, for his supper,” she said. 


GLENWOOD. 


25 


springing up from the chair where she was seated. “ He 
won’t like it when he gits it. But if yaller meal mush 
is good enough for the rest on us, it is good enough fur 
him.” 

Margaret went to put the smaller children to bed, as 
they had clamored for their supper till it was given 
them, and they were now ready for sleep ; which was a 
relief to the remainder of the household. 

After breakfast was cleared away, in the morning, 
Mrs. Gray began on the old theme of the night previous, 
still hoping that she might prevail upon Margaret to 
marry without further delay. 

“ It’s no wonder yer poor ma died, ’afore her time, 
but he won’t ketch me a-doin’ it. I’ll hold on, till I see 
the last of him, at any rate.” 

Margaret knew there was no use of trying to say any- 
thing, when her stepmother was hitting the hard facts 
of their everyday life. There was no gainsaying the 
painful truths. Tears splashed from the long lashes, as 
the white lids drooped over the dark, sorrowful eyes, and 
dropped their bitter rain on her pale cheek, as she sobbed 
out the anguished cry : “ What can I do, mother, and 
where can I go ? I have asked God what He would have 
me to do, and I have prayed that He would take me 
to Himself ; yet I live on, to be in the way of others, be- 
cause I am a girl, instead of a boy, and cannot go out 
into the world, and seek a place to earn my daily 
bread.” 

Sobs choked her utterance. The long pent-up feelings 
had broken loose. A torrent of hopeless anguish swept 
over her soul, and she was as powerless against it as 
fallen leaves before an autumn tempest. 

She had always detested the jarring discord at home, 
and wondered why she should cling to such a shelter. 


26 


GLENWOOD. 


with its barren look of want and privation. It was a 
perpetual grief to her, because she was powerless to 
alter it to any extent. 

If she tried to have things neat and tidy, the children 
would destroy her work. She longed for peace, but it 
was not there, and was not likely to be ; yet she seemed 
stranded or anchored beyond the ability to go elsewhere. 

She mechanically did whatever her hands found to do, 
and tried to help in every way in her power, with faith- 
ful diligence and patience ; and still, she was aware that 
there was no room for her in her own home, as she was 
one more to be supported. 

Don’t cry, Marg’et, said the woman, as her face 
softened into womanly compassion for the sorrowing 
girl, with her drooping figure leaning on the windowsill 
in an attitude of hopeless dejection. “ I’m awful sorry 
fur yer: But why don’t you git married, an’ have a 
home of yer own ? It would be enough site better’n ’tis 
here. Every man hain’t like yer pa; ter shiftless and 
lazy ter live. You wouldn’t have that ter eat yer heart 
out, and make life a cup of gall and bitterness. There 
ought to be a world of comfort in that, at any rate ; but 
if yer determined not to do it, I pervided agin it, by 
helping yer pa to think out some other way fur you; 
only I was in hopes I could coax you ter git marrid, 
an’ not have ter come to it. I wanted to save you from 
goin’ away from home, since you seem to like the old 
shell better’n I do. 

“ Me an’ yer pa talked it all over, about your having 
to go to Lowell ter work in the factory. You have got 
yer new worsted dress an’ two caliko ones, and a new 
pair of shoes, out of yer summer’s amin’s, when you was 
away; so we laid out you’d better go now, afore the 
weather gits any colder. The husks is thick on the ears 


GLENWOOD. 


27 


of corn, an’ that shows thar’s a cold winter’s cornin’. 
I don’t need yer help in the house, now that my 
Manda Jane has got big enough to wash dishes an’ 
tend baby, an’ help take care of the other children; 
an’ since another baby has come, yer pa hain’t gin me 
no peace about yer havin’ ter git married, or go away 
an’ arn yer own livin’. He says if you won’t marry 
Reube Brown, you shall clear out, an’ go to work. He 
allows that it ain’t no worse for you than for other 
girls ter work in a factory, though he may be amazin’ 
shure that I won’t work out doors, in your place, and 
see him do next ter nothing, and that’s settled ter last. 
He’ll find he can’t drive me, as he drove yer ma, inter 
the grave, though I may have to starve ter death, an’ 
the children too, as fur that matter, all six of ’em.” 

Margaret was bewildered, and dumb with astonish- 
ment. Lowell was far away, and such a thing had never 
entered her thoughts. 

“ Oh, mother,” she gasped, as soon as she recovered 
herself. “ How can I go, and whom can I go with ? ” 
was Margaret’s wailing cry. 

La, me, Marg’et ! Don’t be foolish. ’Tain’t half 
as bad as you think, when you come right down to it. 
High notions is well enough, if you can carry ’em out. 
Ter be sure, yourn ain’t the stuck-up kind. A good 
many folks is glad that there is such a place to arn 
a decent livin’. It’s a great blessin’ ter them that can’t 
do nothing else — especially gerls an’ women. I know 
it ’pears hard ter have yer ma die and yer pa get another 
woman, an’ see the house fill up with another brood of 
children. It looks a’most like being driv out of your 
own home, ’cause there’s nothin’ to live on here, and it’s 
the home where you was born; an’ the old sayin’ is; 
‘Home is home, be it ever so humbly,’ and this is 


28 


GLENWOOD. 


humbly enough, if that is the poetry of it. Pennsyl- 
vany haint got many like it, in my opinion, an’ the 
children tearin’ things up, faster’n a body can put ’em 
straight, is enough to drive us both ravin’ distracted.” 

The woman was deeply stirred with pity for the 
friendless girl, as she saw how she recoiled from contact 
with the world, and how tremblingly she shrank from 
going out into it alone, where they were about to cast 
her. She clung with a life-and-death tenacity to the 
poor apology of a home, where there was nothing that 
could be called home comfort. 

The great outside world never looked so broad and 
cold before, with no one to care for her among its 
millions of strange hearts and strange faces. 

“ Don’t look so down, Marg’et. Try and chirk up,” 
said Mrs. Gray. “ If you’d rather have Reube Brown, 
I spoze the critter would be tickled to death to get you, 
even yet, if you did scorn him. He might go the whole 
world over and not find so handsome an’ so smart a girl, 
if I do say it. He has wit enough to know that them 
two things don’t allers go together, or he wouldn’t been 
persessed arter you.” 

Ho, thank you, mother; never mind. I much pre- 
fer Lowell.” 

Wouldn’t you drather have Dave Hart, then, or 
t’other feller, that was so crazy arter you? I’ll over- 
haul ’em in a jiffy if you say so, fur I would be dread- 
ful glad to have you get married an’ live near by, an’ 
not have you go to the tothermost eend of the earth to 
earn a livin’.” 

“ Ho, mother ; don’t put yourself to that trouble ; 
Lowell is not so bad, after all. I was shocked at first, 
and nervous, and foolish, but that is nothing. I will 
get ready to go as soon as possible. I would be so 


GLENWOOD. 


29 


dissatisfied if I married. I could not be tbe right kind 
of a wife for Reube nor for either of the others. It 
would very soon kill me. They can marry some one 
else, who will suit them better, I am sure. You know 
I am not like most girls, so do not worry about my 
marrying,” said Margaret, in a dazed way trying to 
ease off her stepmother’s persistency. I do think you 
really care for me, and would like to see me do well.” 

“ N^obody could help caring fur you, Marg’et, when 
they onct know you, so you won’t be so scant on it fur 
friends as you think for.” 

The woman’s faded eyes filled with tears as she looked 
at Margaret, trying hard to rally under the blow that 
almost took away .her breath. She saw her make the 
effort to rise from the chair where she sat, but her 
trembling limbs refused to support her. 

Her stepmother endeavored to comfort her in her 
odd, crude way, but Margaret, in her great grief, could 
not be comforted, though she tried to appear more com- 
posed outwardly, and to summon strength, if not cour- 
age, to face what lay before her. 

She knew that her stepmother was a better friend to 
her than her own father had ever been. Remorse 
gnawed at his heartstrings continually. Margaret was a 
constant reminder of her mother. There was never a 
day nor an hour that he did not feel what he had lost, 
as he looked at the contrast between the past and the 
present, with secret sorrow, of which Margaret had never 
dreamed. 

Mrs. Gray’s anxiety to interview the candidates for 
Margaret’s hand helped the grieving girl to control her 
feelings and dry her tears sooner than she supposed 
herself capable of doing in the first shock of the an- 
nouncement that she was to go to Lowell. 


30 


GLENWOOD. 


She made haste to bathe her eyes, and found some- 
thing to do while she waited for the traces of tears to 
pass away, so that she could go to the little plain par- 
sonage, as it was there, that this sweet, ladylike girl, 
with her finely organized nature, had found many hours 
of help and comfort, while she rendered material aid 
to the clergyman’s wife in various household tasks which 
were too great a tax on Mrs. Alverton’s physical powers, 
so both were benefited in different ways. 

The Minister’s wife had been Margaret’s firm friend 
from Margaret’s childhood, and had aided her in her 
studies, and encouraged her in her efforts to obtain a 
finished education, which more than made up for Mar- 
garet’s lack of school advantages. She felt her priva- 
tions so keenly that she strove all the harder to try and 
make amends by closer application, and took a wider 
field than if she had spent her time in study at school. 


GLENWOOD. 


31 


CHAPTEK IL 

REFUSING TO MARRY, MARGARET IS SENT TO LOWELL. 

“ Take that ! and that ! and that ! ” said Mrs. Gray, 
as she administered some very energetic slaps on little 
Dick’s ears. I’ll larn ye to spit on Marg’et’s nice clean 
stove — ^you nasty little dog, you ! It’s nice fun fer yer 
ter dirty it all up, arter she spent her time blackin’ it, 
with nothin’ but the sut on the under side of the kivers 
ter do it with. Yer lazy pa would never arn a paper of 
stove blackin’ till the eend o’ time, nor anythin’ else, as 
for that matter. You are big enough an’ old enough ter 
black a stove yerself, an’ do lots of sich jobs, an’ I’m 
goin’ ter make you do it, ter keep the laziness out of 
yer.” 

Little Dick’s ears stood out from his head like the 
ears of a calf, and were tingling and glowing from the 
heft of his mother’s hand, when it came into his head 
to illustrate the old adage, that Misery loves com- 
pany.” He had probably never heard the old saw, but 
he felt its meaning forcibly enough to move him to give 
a piece of information which had the desired effect. 

^^Look a here, mother,” he said, choking down his 
screams for the moment. “ List see Lib spittin’ on her 
nasty paws an’ makin’ dirt picters on Marg’et’s nice 
clean winder she washed this mornin’.” 


32 


GLENWOOD. 


It took but a glance and a hasty step or two, and poor 
little Lib’s ears felt the administration of the same 
remedy that had set Dick howling at the top of his 
voice. The extra pair of lungs that now chimed in, 
started little Tom, who turned too sudenly in the rick- 
ety old rocking chair, and it tumbled over with him. 
His mother caught him up with no gentle hand, and 
shook him till his teeth rattled, and then sat him down 
with force enough to settle all the dinners he had eaten 
for a week. 

The baby, frightened at the noise, struck up a wail- 
ing accompaniment, making a quartet that constituted 
the chief music of the little brown cot where Margaret 
Gray was born. 

While this was going on, Margaret was getting a pail 
of water with scrub-broom and mop to clean the floor, 
which she knew would need doing again by the time it 
was dry, unless the children were sent out of the room 
for an hour or so. 

Mrs. Gray took up the wailing baby to soothe it, 
while she tried to scold the others into some degree of 
quiet, so she could be heard in speaking to Margaret, 
telling her that if she were in her place “ she would go 
ter the eends of the airth ter git rid of the fuss and 
squallin’ they had there, from mornin’ till night, and 
furever an’ everlastin’.” 

‘‘ They’ve allers been crosser’en Bedlam, jist like 
their pa ; an’ allers will be, I spoze,” and with that for- 
lorn and comfortless conclusion, she heaved a sigh, and 
then tried to sing to the baby with a voice scarcely more 
agreeable than the dismal squeak of the chair which 
complained of her weight, and the many children that 
had been rocked in it. It was a second-hand affair when 
it first came to the forlorn Pennsylvania cot, and as- 


GLENWOOD. 


33 

sumed the dignity of holding the lovely form of Mar- 
garet Gray^s beautiful mother. 

“’Tain’t no use ter scrub that floor, Marg’et. I 
don’t want yer ter tire yourself out doin’ it, fur it’s bad 
as ever in no time,” said Mrs. Gray, despondingly, as 
she glanced at the tearful group of miserable children 
that Margaret had been pitying in silence, knowing 
that it would not do to speak her sympathy in words. 

Amanda J ane had been trying to quiet them, till now 
they could begin to hear the old clock ticking indus- 
triously on toward noon, while fitful sunbeams stole into 
the window, trying to bring a little brightness into the 
room. Manda was told to get the taters an’ peel ’em 
fur dinner, so as to have potato stew,” “ an’ lots of it,” 
said Dick, who was ordered to go out and pick up the 
wood to cook it with. 

I would like to clean the floor,” said Margaret. “ It 
needs it so badly, and the children can go upstairs and 
play till it gets dry.” 

No, they sha’n’t. Dick shall pick up wood in the 
stump lot, if it kills him, an’ the others shall go with 
him and do it too, or I’ll know the reason why. I ain’t 
goin’ to let no more laziness get into ’em than was born 
there. Yer ma brought hern up to work as soon as they 
could run alone, and there an’t no laziness in none of 
’em, neither the boys, ner you, Marg’et, an’ you all had 
the same father, too, both hern and mine.” 

Mrs. Gray did not take into consideration that it 
often makes a great deal of difference what sort of a 
mother a child has. She did not notice that her chil- 
dren were inferior in looks and in mental endowment, 
from the fact of having a mother lacking the energy 
and ambition which had characterized the mother of 
Margaret Gray, whose children inherited her many good 


34 


GLENWOOD. 


qualities. Her careful and judicious training, early in 
life as it was, had a great influence also in forming their 
character and shaping their course, as the sequel will 
show. 

By the time Margaret had done all she could" find to 
do in her own home, the traces of tears had passed away, 
though her temples still throbbed in painful unison 
with the aching of her heart, that longed intensely for 
rest, shelter and peace. Like Hoah’s dove, she could 
find no resting place for the sole of her foot, on the 
broad face of the earth, except at the little parsonage, 
where a scanty salary, poorly paid, made her feel that 
she was robbing her best friends whenever she sat at 
their table, knowing that it was a hard struggle for them 
to live at all. 

Hiring help had been utterly impossible, no matter 
how much Mrs. Alverton needed it when her strength 
failed, as it often did, from the overstrain of anxiety, 
work and care. 

Margaret tried all the more to render grateful and 
loving assistance in many ways when she was not needed 
at home. 

It was the one green oasis in the barren desert of her 
life, and it refreshed her, like “ the shadow of a great 
rock in a weary land.” 

Mrs. Alverton and Margaret had learned by expe- 
rience the help that two sweet-souled women can be to 
each other who feel so disposed, and look carefully into 
each other’s needs. 

From schools and seminaries Mrs. Alverton had 
stepped into married life, and found herself woefully 
deficient, and painfully ignorant of the duties devolv- 
ing upon her. She felt that with all her education, she 
was unfitted for her position as wife and mother, and 


GLENWOOD. 


35 


found it a hard and perplexing path at best. She knew 
that her most earnest efforts fell far short of making 
married life the dream of bliss she had anticipated when 
her heart gave its best and holiest affections to the 
Clergyman she married. 

It was a constant grief to her to see her deficiencies, 
and feel her lack of skill and knowledge in the manage- 
ment of home affairs and the multifarious duties that 
make up the sum of everyday life. 

She saw her incompetency and inability to make the 
machinery of home run smoothly without jarring fric- 
tion. Even the husband she revered and loved, never 
knew the tears she had shed over it. She saw how nobly 
he had fitted himself for his sacred calling, which 
made her unfitness for hers all the more painful and 
distressing. Her troubled soul marveled at his patience 
and forbearance with her oft repeated blunders and her 
defective and unskilled way of doing home duties, which 
did not seem to lessen as time went on. 

Children were horn, and three of them died; and at 
last Margaret came to he her angel of help and comfort. 

Mrs. Alverton’s blundering and faulty way of house- 
keeping wasted her time and strength, and kept her do- 
ing with tired hands and weary feet, while there was 
little or nothing to show for her efforts. It caused her 
constant grief and uneasiness, lest it might lessen her 
husband’s love and respect for her, by seeing how incom- 
petent she was, and how incapable of making home what 
it should be — a haven of peace, such as she longed to 
have it, though powerless to bring it about, no matter 
how hard she tried. 

Margaret Gray’s energy, neatness and order, and her 
skill, deftness and precision, were a constant wonder 
to Mrs. Alverton, who saw how quickly she could bring 


36 


GLENWOOD. 


order out of chaos; and work would vanish as if by 
magic whenever her slender hand took the helm. It 
was a pleasure to witness the quiet way in which it was 
done, with no false moves, and no clatter nor parade, 
and seemingly with but little effort and few steps. Her 
mind directed her movements, and every move was made 
to tell in the right direction and in the most effective 
manner. 

Mrs. Alverton saw the advantage of practical home- 
education, and of being early taught, so that in any 
case, a woman can he the guiding spirit of her home, 
and make it the brightest and sweetest spot on earth, 
even though househelp might not be attainable, as in 
her case. She saw the need of good generalship and 
self-discipline, even in the affairs of the kitchen, in re- 
gard to doing things at the right time, and often doing 
many things together; carrying them on smoothly and 
evenly, and at the same time preserving neatness and 
order by keeping everything in its place, and adjusting 
them while passing by them, instead of waiting to find 
time for a general clear-up, or letting them lie in dis- 
order instead of preserving a neat and homelike appear- 
ance, even though the household effects may be poor and 
plain. 

Mrs. Alverton thought, of all womankind, Margaret 
Gray was the noblest, sweetest and best in all that per- 
tained to human perfection. 

She gladly learned precious lessons which were treas- 
ured up to assist her in homekeeping and housekeeping 
without needless outlay of money, time and strength. 
She learned also many needful lessons of economy and 
thrift, that would be invaluable to her with their small 
income and slender resources. 

Margaret’s presence never failed to bring sunshine 


GLENWOOD. 


37 


into the little parsonage, with her kindly heart and help- 
ful hand, accompanied as it was with a cheerful face, 
no matter how her heart was aching. She gathered new 
hope and courage from congenial companionship in the 
quiet atmosphere of the pleasant household, and felt 
herself better fitted for the struggle of life. She went 
her way strengthened and refreshed, and with more 
bravery of spirit for the work that lay before her. 

So the years went on, while Mrs. Alverton and Mar- 
garet were constantly giving and receiving aid, and were 
the better for it. Margaret drank in knowledge as 
thirsty flowers drink dew. She gathered it at every op- 
portunity from the stores Mrs. Alverton had laid up in 
former years. The text books of this devoted friend 
were of great use to Margaret, who had no means of 
procuring them for herself, and the privilege of using 
them, was to her, more than the price of gold. 

In her insatiate craving and thirst for knowledge, 
wide and varied, Mrs. Alverton, gently and judiciously 
held her in check. Her own experience had taught her 
how useless is a great deal of the study of wearisome 
and nonessential things, whereby health is often ruined 
and life is made a wreck or a failure. Abstruse sciences 
she thought would better be left out of a girl’s educa- 
tion, and a knowledge of home duties substituted. She 
repeatedly cautioned Margaret against overcrowding the 
brain with studies which can give neither pleasure nor 
profit, and soon slip from the memory and are lost. 
She endeavored to direct Margaret’s mind in different 
channels, so that there might be knowledge and culture 
without a jumble of confused ideas which amount to 
nothing, and would serve none of the practical needs 
of life. 

Margaret’s gratitude was unbounded, and remained 


38 


GLENWOOD. 


so through life. She was congenial company for the 
Minister’s wife, — sociable, without being a tiresome and 
persistent talker. She had been observant enough to see 
that such people are usually more dreaded than loved — 
the same as the moody and sullen, who seem to have no 
ideas, broader, or higher than gratifying and nursing 
a disagreeable and unlovable disposition. 

Margaret was too noble of mind and heart to com- 
plain of her hard lot at home. She bore it as a cross 
that must be borne, while she sought the good of others, 
and thereby lightened her own burdens. 



ii became acquainted with Jacob Gray. 






GLENWOOD. 


39 


CHAPTER III. 

THE HISTORY AND LIFE OF MARGAREt’s MOTHER. 

Margaret Gray’s mother was a lady by birth, educa- 
tion and culture ; but, on account of her brightness and 
beauty she was a petted and spoiled child. She became 
wayward and wilful, which at last resulted in sorrow, 
heartache and finally death. 

While visiting a friend and schoolmate at a distance 
from her own home, she became acquainted with Jacob 
Gray. He was much her inferior in every respect, but 
in her ignorance and childish blindness she did not see 
it. He possessed a feminine sort of beauty, with small 
features and a delicate complexion, which were quite at- 
tractive to the romantic girl of eighteen, who knew noth- 
ing of the world except the fictitious views she had ob- 
tained from novels, and through the lens of girlish fancy. 
Hers had been a sheltered life, surrounded by tender 
care and love, with everything beautiful, without 
thought or effort on her part. 

Florence Sutherland was flattered with the attentions 
of this, her first real suitor, who seemed to bow down in 
homage to her beauty, but more especially to her father’s 
wealth, and consequently he determined to make her his 
prize. 

He tried to be fascinatingly agreeable on the occa- 


40 


GLENWOOD. 


sions of his visits, and urged his suit with all speed, for 
fear of losing the golden treasure he coveted. He made 
a great display of his delicate hands, that did no 
heavier work than that of caressing a feeble mustache, 
varying the exercise by seeking the acquaintance of 
every pretty girl who came in his way. He kept in view 
the one idea of bettering his condition in life by win- 
ning a matrimonial prize. While he was bestowing his 
flattering attentions, his mind was busy weighing the 
moneyed prospects of the fair ones, in order to learn 
whether their means would make it worth while for him 
to give up the freedom of single life, which he was will- 
ing to do, provided he could gain the wherewith to main- 
tain himself in the idleness he had managed to exist in 
for tweny-two years. His parents toiled diligently for 
his support, though they were facing the sunset of life 
and had need of his services on the farm where they 
had delved for more than thirty years, and now needed 
rest and respite from toil and wearing care. 

The wealth of Florence Sutherland’s parents proved 
to be a greater attraction than anything he had before 
met with, and his spirits rose accordingly. He pro- 
fessed to love the fair daughter of affluence to distrac- 
tion, when in reality it was her father’s wealth he cov- 
eted, or at least that portion which he hoped to obtain 
by marrying Major Sutherland’s daughter. 

It was not long before she, in her infatuated blind- 
ness, stepped from girlhood into the thorny bondage 
of married life without love, and into care and sorrow 
of which she had never dreamed. 

The evil in Jacob Gray’s nature was not wholly his 
own. He was the youngest born, and had been made a 
selfish weakling by over-indulgence, till even his own 
parents despised him, as he grew older. He had never 


GLENWOOD. 


'41 


evinced any respect for them, for all that they lavished 
upon him. He thought his mother and sisters none 
too good to do the most menial service that he was too 
indolent to perform for himself. 

Great was the disappointment of Jacob Gray when 
he found that no money came with his wife, and no 
hope of it, even in years to come. 

She was cast off by her parents for wilfuly marrying 
beneath her, after they had sought by every means in 
their power to save her from the depths of woe they 
were sure she was bringing upon herself by marrying 
Jacob Gray. 

The young man^s father, pitying the girl in the choice 
she had made, gave his unpromising son a double por- 
tion of the means he was entitled to, as his inheritance, 
in order to cheer the bride, while at the same time he 
felt that he was wronging his other children of what was 
their due, and almost hopelessly crippling himself, al- 
though the sum was small at best, but it was all that 
Jacob Gray could ever hope for, without earning it him- 
self. 

He was angry and sullen, because it was not placed 
in his hands as cash to spend as he pleased; but his 
father was justly mindful of the young and lovely girl 
whom his son had brought from affluence to poverty 
without her previous knowledge of his character. She 
supposed her own father would relent and supply what- 
ever means her husband lacked for comfortable support ; 
but it was love’s young dream on her part, with a fear- 
ful awakening. 

The elder Mr. Gray purchased a farm, and gave the 
deed to the young wife, whose dark eyes already wore an 
anxious and troubled look that touched him deeply. 

He wished to give her the satisfaction of feeling that 


42 


GLENWOOD. 


she could have a shelter over her head, if nothing more, 
and hoped that his son would exhibit energy enough 
to stock the farm and finish paying for it when he found 
there was no one but himself to depend upon. He was 
sure that the spur of want would in time make a man 
of him. 

A two-thirds payment was made on the purchase of 
a home, far back among the Pennsylvania hills, leav- 
ing a third of the money to be paid in easy install- 
ments. 

A horse and cow, farm tools and seeds were pur- 
chased ; also a few necessary things for the house in the 
way of food, and a scanty supply of second-hand fur- 
niture. Then the young couple were left with the part- 
ing injunction to the son to go to work like a man and 
carve out his own fortune as many other men had done, 
with far less to begin with, and with not so good a shel- 
ter. 

The father may not have known that the energy and 
manliness requisite for the undertaking was not among 
Jacob Gray’s virtues, if virtue he had. The poor young 
wife was not long in finding it out, with a sinking heart 
and hopelessness of spirit — after being so suddenly cast 
out from her own beautiful home into a barren wilder- 
ness of want, privation, toil and care. She regretted 
every trifle that she had ever spent on herself in the 
past, seeing that she so sorely needed it now to pur- 
chase the bare necessities of life. It galled her proud 
spirit to think that she brought nothing with her, when 
her husband had expected so much. He visited his dis- 
appointment and anger upon her in unmanly abuse, 
which caused her to despise him from the bottom of her 
heart, and filled her soul with sorrowful regret for the 
step she had taken, which could never be retraced. 


GLENWOOD. 


43 


She now saw the wisdom which was hidden in the 
opposition of her parents in regard to her union with 
Jacob Gray. 

She wondered that she had allowed her youthful ig- 
norance and blind folly to lead her into such a path. 
She was not surprised at their displeasure for her not 
yielding to their superior knowledge and foresight, when 
she could now see, so plainly, the love that had mani- 
fested itself in their earnest desire to shield her from 
lifelong misery and want. 

The proud, rebellious spirit which she had character- 
ized as independence, she now saw was only another 
name for self-will and selfishness, with a reprehensible 
disregard of the rights and feelings of those who loved 
her and had sought her best good, even in the denial of 
her wishes. 

Her self-condemnation was unsparing for the trouble 
she had caused her parents as well as herself. She 
bowed down in anguish and wept over it in bitter peni- 
tence and regret; and though she blamed herself till 
the day of her death, she also blamed her parents for not 
training her differently, with an eye to her future good, 
rather than present gratification and enjoyment, which 
fostered the self-will that at last brought about such 
dire results. 

She was the first-bom. Three younger children were 
left. Her parents very much feared her example would 
prove a pattern for the remainder of their flock to go by, 
so they cast her off, though not without keen sorrow and 
regret. 

She was their pride. They had built great hopes on 
her future. They were sure that her punishment would 
not be light, and knew that she would fail of the hap- 
piness she so confidently expected in the path she had 


44 


GLENWOOD. 


chosen ; yet, if her parents could have known the extent 
of her sorrow and penitence, they were less than human 
to allow it to wear out her young life and extend to her 
no hand of pity or relief. 

She wrote two or three sorrowfully pleading letters, 
confessing her wrongs and humbly imploring forgive- 
ness, but they were returned to her unopened. Her 
proud spirit, crushed as it was, ventured no more. She 
went her sorrowful way alone, bearing her unshared 
burdens till death lifted them from her weary shoulders 
forever. 

Had her husband shown any of the spirit of manli- 
ness, great as her grief was, at being cast out of the 
hearts of her parents, she would have faced toil and 
privation without a murmur, and with a brave and will- 
ing spirit. With an earnest heart she would have 
worked nobly by his side, feeling that it was no worse 
for her than for others. She knew that many sweet 
and noble women have gone from comfortable and pleas- 
ant homes to the wilderness of a new country, in the 
back woods, or on the prairies, and had worked cheer- 
fully and patiently, day by day, happy in seeing sterl- 
ing manhood bravely grapple with difficulties, which 
with strong handed industry, made the desert blossom 
as the rose. In time, the earth poured into their laps its 
bounteous plenty, which was exchanged for means suf- 
ficient to build and furnish a home of comfort to glad- 
den them through life. 

There was no such thought or hope to cheer the bride 
of Jacob Gray. He began to show her her position as a 
subordinate. When she rebelled at his selfish exactions, 
putting her in the harness of toil, while he took his ease 
in bed in the morning as his mother had permitted him 
to do — she received his abuse without any amendment 


GLENWOOD. 


45 


of his conduct. She was expected to do her own work 
and also a greater share of his. It was that, or starve, 
and lose their home besides. He visited upon her his 
ill-temper and ill-treatment till her heart was well nigh 
broken, while she was yet a bride. Still she lived and 
worked on, stung to desperation with the dreary out- 
look before her ; pained and grieved with her husband’s 
lack of industry and thrift, and his boyish excuses for 
indolence and neglect. She saw the loss from it which 
came in many ways which they could ill-afford, when 
gain might have come in its place, to cheer and brighten 
their lot. 

She was almost maddened at times by her husband’s 
trait of putting off till to-morrow the work of to-day, 
and the trouble and loss resulting therefrom, besides 
doubling the labor that fell on herself, or have nothing 
for what had already been done. So the young wife was 
obliged to take up the crushing burdens, as he laid them 
upon her slender shoulders, like his red-skinned brethren 
of the forest, heartlessly sacrificing her on the unhal- 
lowed altar of his indifference and neglect. He never 
failed to give ill-treatment whenever she tried to urge 
him to bear his share of the burden of self-support. 

Her refined nature and womanly pride could not 
tolerate the needless poverty and want, with no hope of 
ever having anything better or more tasteful than the 
little shanty of a house presented, barren as it was of 
all comfort or adornment, and all that her heart craved 
and longed for. 

Wearily she toiled on, almost single-handed and alone, 
trying to make up for her husband’s lack of ambition by 
a superabundance of her own. 

She applied herself day and night, sore-hearted and 
sore-handed, till the sparkle died out of her eyes and 


46 


GLENWOOD. 


the gladness went out of her heart ; and in her despair 
she often prayed to die. The early hours of the morn- 
ing found her wearily delving, while her husband slept 
the sleep of the sluggard. She had to drive herself at 
life-destroying speed, with a heart so worn and sad, 
it made the work heavier and harder. Ambition had to 
take the place of strength, when strength failed her, as 
it often did, from hard and unaccustomed toil. Being 
unskilled, it made it all the more difficult to perform. 
Yet necessity compelled her to delve on, uncared for and 
unloved, which lessened her strength and sapped the 
springs of life, day by day, till vitality was gone forever. 

She raised calves, lambs, pigs and poultry, made but- 
ter and sold eggs and fruit, and every other product of 
the farm, to apply the proceeds to finish paying for 
the place. 

She knew that all depended on her own exertions, and 
if she relaxed her efforts they would be shelterless and 
penniless and would have to starve or apply for public 
aid from town authorities. 

Children were born, taking time and strength for 
their many needs; yet this nerved her arm for greater 
exertion. She taught them to assist her in many ways 
while they were yet little, toddling things. When they 
became older, their help was considerable, and all the 
more so, for being early taught. Young as they were, 
they despised their father’s thriftless ways. It became 
still more intolerable when their lovely mother laid down 
her tired hands in sleep that did not demand an early 
waking to hard toil and grinding care, the greater part 
of which belonged to her husband’s broad shoulders. 
He had been well satisfied to lay it upon her, till she 
sank beneath it, leaving little eight year old Margaret, 


GLENWOOD. 


47 


with her sweet, gentle ways, and two boys, one older 
and one younger than herself. 

The spring work on the farm was left unfinished, 
which, to the indifferent husband made his bereavement 
seem all the greater. He was distressed for the plight 
he was in, as he was thrown on his own resources for 
the first time in his life. His faculties had never been 
developed by application, so he found himself, as his 
wife had always known him to be, only a bundle of in- 
efficiency and worthlessness. 

A baby daughter had closed her eyes in dreamless 
sleep, as if glad to turn her head from the cup her 
mother had to drink; but the mother soon slept beside 
her, and forgot it all, and little Margaret had to fill her 
place as best she might, with the aid of her brothers, who 
often wept and sobbed with her, in uncontrollable grief. 

Mrs. Gray, by persistent effort, had finished paying 
for the farm at last, and had bought sheep — all that the 
seventy acres could carry — in addition to the stock she 
had raised, so there began to be a brighter outlook for 
prosperity. She tried to cheer herself by thinking of 
the little hoard she had laid by, to enlarge and repair 
the house, and make brighter their surroundings. But 
her over-taxed life had been giving way while she 
slowly added dime to dime, and dollar to dollar, which 
at last went to pay doctor’s bills and funeral expenses 
when her incompleted life and toil were ended. 

Jacob Gray regretted his loss after a fashion of his 
own, in accordance with his nature, in spite of his 
former indifference, just as a man regrets the loss of a 
valuable horse when he is unable to purchase another. 


48 


GLENWOOD. 


CHAPTER IV. 

JACOB GEAY’s second WIFE. 

After a year had passed away, drearily enough to 
the children, Jacob Gray pledged his faith to one who 
proved to be a more fitting companion for a man of his 
coarse, low nature. 

The woman of his selection, or rather the only one 
whom he thought could be induced to marry him, was 
one whose life had been as thriftless and aimless as his 
own. An aged father had supported her till a few 
months previous to Jacob Gray’s offer of marriage, when 
the father died, leaving her to look out for herself. 

People knew that in Jacob Gray there was nothing 
in the shape of manliness, and nothing in his nature 
that a woman could love. 

Miss Slimpkins knew him more by hearsay than by 
personal acquaintance, and cared nothing for what he 
had been. She thought if the wife who was gone had 
failed to manage him, that was no sign that no one else 
could do it. She was not averse to the project of trying 
to see what she could do towards molding him to her 
liking. 

She knew her own domineering disposition and her 
high-pressure temper, and believed, as she had heard 
her mother say, that there was nothing like beginning 


GLENWOOD. 


49 


right with a husband in the first place, and she was de- 
termined to try it, expecting to win success in the end. 

Jacob Gray did not make his offer on the plea of love, 
as he had previously done, to gain his first wife. He 
made no pretence of it now. It was simply proposing 
for some one to work for him, taking his name, if not 
his abuse, for recompense. If the terms did not suit 
afterwards, the balance could be made up with hard 
words. 

J erusha Slimpkins cared very little whether there was 
any love in the case or not. She knew she was not a 
lovable personage herself. She had in her own mind 
mightier reasons for looking favorably on Jacob Gray’s 
proposition when he asked her to share his fate and for- 
tune, such as it was, and be housekeeper and caretaker 
for himself and children. She accepted him with small 
show of hesitancy, although she told him it was no pleas- 
ant notion, to her mind, to take care of other folks’ chil- 
dren, but since none of them were very small, and the 
baby was dead and gone, long ago, she guessed she would 
try it. 

Her suitor stared at her in a puzzled way for a mo- 
ment, to see whether she understood the difference be- 
tween hiring out for a stated period, under promise of 
wages, or accepting a life and death offer, such as it had 
proved to be to the weary sleeper in the churchyard not 
far away. 

I didn’t know folks got married on trial to see 
whether they liked it or not,” he gruffly replied, with 
hat in hand ready to go. 

Miss Slimpkins felt a pang of sudden fear that he 
might withdraw the offer, so she hastened to explain 
matters, by telling him she did not expect to get married 
on trial, and that it was only her way of speaking. She 


50 


GLENWOOD. 


meant she would try to do her best, which was all that 
any man could expect of a second wife, or a first one 
either, as for that matter. 

Those who knew the man hoped that he had found 
his match for once, which proved true in every partic- 
ular. 

Miss Slimpkins married for a home and a husband to 
support her, and meant that he should know it. By 
nature, she was as worthless as he possibly could be, 
and was just as indifferent as to which way the wind 
blew, till children came, and want came with them; 
then she woke up to the fact that some one must work 
for their support. 

She was not long in making up her mind that she, 
too, had made a mistake in marrying Jacob Gray. She 
unsparingly lashed him for it, with the bitterest venom 
of her tongue. 

Though want came in at the door, there was no love 
to fly out of the window. There was only bickering and 
quarreling, but the second Mrs. Gray shed no tears over 
her wounds, knowing that she could inflict greater ones, 
and still carry what she called ** a clear conscience.” 

It was plainly seen that the neglected farm grew 
poorer and more barren every year. The farm stock 
was nearly all sold to meet the expenses of living with- 
out much work, and no income. Starvation began to 
stare them in the face, which they hoped to avert at 
last, by sending off the boys, making two less to support. 
Matters proved to be still more hopeless afterwards, as 
a smaller amount of work was done on the farm, and 
less was raised to support the family. Margaret had to 
take the place of the boys and work out of doors, but 
it did not stay the downhill course of affairs. Food be- 


GLENWOOD. 51 

came scarce, as it had often been before, and clothing 
was still more impossible to obtain. 

People thought that an uneasy conscience had much 
to do with Jacob Gray’s dejected look after he married 
Miss Slimpkins. As for his hopes of her being a help- 
meet, they were put to death by seeing her draw her 
slow length around, and noticing how much she could 
eat and the lack of interest she manifested as to where 
it was to come from. Others saw it too, and guessed 
that he was not as happy in his second choice as he might 
be, which was all too true. 

He would have given all the world if he could have 
called back the treasure that had slipped from his cruel 
grasp before he knew how to prize it. 

He became still more sullen and quarrelsome, year 
after year. He seemed to feel a hatred for even his own 
children, and seldom spoke to them, except to scold or 
reprove them for something they had done, or had not 
done. His wife’s temper was a full match for his own. 
It grew worse as she saw the hopeless course that affairs 
had taken. 

Deeply as Margaret Gray mourned her mother in the 
first agony of her bereavement, she mourned her with 
greater intensity as years crept on, and she more fully 
realized her loss. 

When her brothers were gone, she was left to grieve 
alone for three instead of one, and to add to her sorrow, 
she felt herself an alien, and a stranger in the home of 
her birth. Poor as it was, her heart clung to it fondly. 
It was her inheritance, and was all that she knew of the 
world. 

As her brothers grew older, they could not conceal 
their detestation of their father’s idle ways, knowing 
that it brought deeper poverty and want with every year 


52 


GLENWOOD. 


that passed. They saw how powerless they were to pre- 
vent it, no matter how hard they worked, in ill-directed 
and ill-timed labor. 

The quarreling of the parents, mingled with the 
screaming and crying of the little ones, made perpetual 
discord, although patient little Margaret was ever busy, 
trying to soothe the stormy belligerents, and striving for 
order, where there was never anything but disorder and 
discord, at best. 

The boys were not long in learning that their step- 
mother did not want them at home. Their father 
showed them no affection and no pity for the lack of 
clothing whidh caused them to suffer with cold, as well 
as shame. They abhorred the pinching poverty that was 
as galling as it was needless, while it was impossible for 
them to forget that it was their mother who had finished 
paying for the farm, and had stocked it with her own 
hard work, and was lying in her grave as the result of 
her bitter lot of toil and sorrow, which had no let up, 
nor respite but in death. 

As for food, they did not complain that potatoes and 
salt was the fare set before them a part of the time, or 
that cornmeal mush filled up most of the remainder. 
They knew that it was better than starving. They were 
thankful for even that, but they longed for books and 
decent and comfortable clothing, and a peaceful and 
orderly home. 

Though they were good boys, they were the cause of 
much private wrangling between their father and his 
second wife. At last, unknown to Margaret, they were 
sent adrift, like October leaves that the wind has swept 
from the branches where they grew and fiourished in 
the springtime of their budding infancy, and in the 
summer of their joy and gladness. 


GLENWOOD. 


53 


Margaret was led to believe that they had gone of 
their own accord, with no parting word for her to live 
on, in their absence, and not one expression of regret 
for leaving her, with the aching heart that loved them 
so tenderly. Since they never wrote to her, she was 
made to think that they did not care for the one and 
only being in the wide world whose every thought and 
hope was centered in them. After a time, she drove 
herself still harder into study to try to drown sorrow 
for their loss, though she never became reconciled. 


54 


GLENWOOD. 


CHAPTER V. 

MARGABET^S PREPARATION FOR GOING TO EOWELL. 

It was diflScult for Margaret Gray to realize that her 
life had been mapped out for her, away from the home 
which was to be home no longer. She hastily looked 
over her small effects, and smoothed out her rippling 
brown hair, where sunbeams glinted whenever the light 
touched it, though her fair complexion made it seem at 
times almost black. 

The Minister and his wife were greatly astonished at 
the news Margaret brought them. It distressed them as 
much as it did Margaret, to think of her having to go 
such a distance from home, alone, and among strange 
people and strange scenes, with no one to care for her 
or take an interest in her welfare. They felt that it 
could not, and must not be permitted. 

Margaret concealed her heartache in a measure, while 
sending up secret prayer for strength and grace to bear 
this new cross and trial, wishing in her heart that God 
might take her to Himself. Though she had long de- 
sired it, time dragged on so wearily that her twenty 
years seemed like lingering ages. 

She wondered how people could wish for long life, or 
endure to wait for the coming of old age, to send them 
away to a better inheritance. 


GLENWOOD. 


55 


Mrs. Alverton could not bear the thought of giving 
up Margaret, nor of seeing the gentle girl, with her 
shrinking, sensitive nature, thrust rudely out upon the 
world. The Minister and his wife decided to give her 
a home till some way might be opened for her to do 
better. When the proposition was made to Margaret, 
she resolutely declined it. The bitterest part of it all, 
was leaving these — her only friends, and the sacred 
spot where reposed the ashes of her mother. 

Margaret knew the scanty income of the Minister. 
She had often felt that her board, even for a few meals, 
was a tax which they could ill afford, no matter how 
sparingly she ate, as she did in her own home, for fear 
there might not be enough for others. She would not 
take advantage of their generosity, even though it might 
save her from deeper sorrow and pain. 

She felt that it would be cowardly for her to shrink 
from the harder path, and accept what they could not 
afford, with a meager salary, never fully paid. She 
knew it would anger the people, and that would lessen 
the Minister’s means of providing for his own family. 

His parishioners were mostly poor and uneducated, 
and would say that if they could support her, they could 
do with less, which would mean cruel and oppressive 
want to those earnest and devoted servants of God, who 
had so befriended her. They still urged, and were 
ready to share their last crust with her if she could be 
prevailed upon to accept it. 

“ No, no,” replied Margaret, with many thanks. 
“ Though it looks as formidable to me as did the Eed 
Sea to the Israelites, I must do as I am bidden. Go for- 
ward, though flesh and spirit recoil from it — not from 
the work that lies at the end of the journey, but from 
the distance, and from so many strange people, and 


56 


GLENWOOD. 


worse than all, from going alone to ask a place for my- 
self. Besides that, I have heard much against some of 
the employees of the mills.” 

“ True, Margaret,” said the Clergyman, “ such things 
are not as they used to he, when girls of our own land 
went from village homes and peaceful farms, as they 
could be spared ; and there was now and then a sprink- 
ling of thrifty English and Scotch girls, as unpretending 
and quiet as they were strong and honest, which made a 
great difference in the estimation of people in regard to 
such things. At that time, the moral atmosphere of the 
mills was as pure as that of a seminary of learning. All 
immorality was carefully checked, which cannot be so 
easily done now, among such numbers, with the con- 
stant influx of a lower grade of humanity, with their 
ignorance and prejudices. But in all places, Margaret, 
you will find the pure and the impure, the just and the 
unjust — there as elsewhere. 

“ Remember that the Master says, ^ The wheat and 
the tares shall grow together till the harvest.’ You will 
be known for what you are, Margaret, among the pure 
and good. You will find them there, as well as here, 
where the hand of fortune or fate has cast them, to seek 
a good and honest means of subsistence, and you will 
find, after a time, that their numbers are not few. The 
low and the vile will soon learn that you are not of them, 
and will seek their own kind, and leave you to go your 
way in peace. Mrs. Alverton will join her prayers with 
mine, asking the watchful care of Omnipotence, and His 
guidance and protection; and rest assured, Margaret, 
that your mother’s God will be an ever-present friend 
and helper. Only trust, pray and believe. 

“ We shall miss you sadly in our own home. We most 
heartily wish we could spare you the pain that this step 


GLENWOOD. 


57 


occasions you, and save you from the path that you so 
dread to follow, and which seems the only one open be- 
fore you, if you will not share our home with us. If you 
are firm in your resolution not to do so, I wish that we 
had some suitable recompense to offer for all you have 
done to lighten Mrs. Alverton’s burdens, and brighten 
our lot.” 

“ Yes,” said his wife, with her eyes swimming in 
tears ; “ I never felt our poverty as I do now, in our in- 
debtedness to you, Margaret. To think there is nothing 
to recompense you, and not even a suitable token that we 
can bestow as an evidence of our appreciation, at least, 
and as an expression of our regard. 

“ Please don’t,” said Margaret. “ It wounds and dis- 
tresses me, when I am so deeply indebted to you, that I 
can never hope to repay it. How could I have borne my 
lot hut for your kindness ? The trifles I have done are 
less than nothing in my eyes, when I have received so 
much comfort and aid. My heart will thank you for 
it, till the last throb of life,” and here, tears welled up 
to the soft brown eyes and would not be held back. 

“ Ho, Margaret, you overrate it all. The indebted- 
ness is wholly on our side,” persisted Mrs. Alverton, 

and we can do nothing but pray for you. Our Heav- 
enly Father is rich, and I am sure that He will yet re- 
ward you, even in this life, and more abundantly in the 
life to come, when all our earthly cares and trials are 
ended.” 

“ When will you go ? ” inquired the Clergyman, 
when his wife had ceased speaking, while she looked 
with pitying love and tenderness on the girl so dear to 
}ier — dreading to hear the separation spoken of. 

“ I cannot bear to think of it longer than need be,” 
replied Margaret, so I have decided to go on Wednes- 


58 


GLENWOOD. 


day. That will give me the remainder of to-day and to- 
morrow to get ready for the journey. 

“ Must it be so soon ? was Mrs. Alverton’s sorrowful 
inquiry. I can scarcely bear the thought of giving you 
up. We would keep you always, even with all our 
poverty, if you would consent to it.” 

“ If I consented, I should despise myself, and show 
my unworthiness of your regard. I cannot rob my best 
and dearest friends. It would be selfish and cruel. I 
cannot bring myself to think of such a thing. Hard as 
the path looks to me, my going seems inevitable, and the 
sooner it is over with, the better. I have very little to 
do in the way of preparation, so the time will be even 
more than I shall need, unless I can assist you in some 
way. I must be ready to start early, for mother says 
there is a thirty-five-mile stage ride before I reach the 
station where I am to take the cars for Hew York ; and 
there I am to take the night boat, and thence to Lowell. 
There is a shorter route by rail, only the fare is too 
great.” 

But where is the money, my poor child ? ” asked 
Mrs. Alverton. 

Mother says she has five dollars saved of my sum- 
mer’s earnings, and she will have the two remaining 
sheep sold to make out ten dollars for me. I am to re- 
pay her as soon as I can earn it. That is to be my cap- 
ital on which I am to start out for myself, or as they 
say of boys — go out into the world and seek my fortune.” 
Margaret tried to smile, but it died on her lips and was 
more pitiful than tears. 

Mrs. Alverton seemed not to notice it, but went out 
of the room and returned in a few moments, bringing 
with her a new woollen shawl, soft and fine, telling Mar- 


GLENWOOD. 


59 


garet that she needed it, and that it was a loving gift 
from her friend. 

“ But I cannot accept it,’^ said Margaret. “ I am go- 
ing where I can probably earn such things, and you can- 
not.” 

You must take it, or I shall feel deeply pained and 
grieved.” 

So Margaret was forced to accept the gift, though she 
knew there would he great need for it, as soon as cold 
weather should come to pinch the delicate form of her 
self-denying friend, and there would be no means for her 
to procure another. 

The busy fingers of Mrs. Alverton and Margaret were 
soon at work, and out of odds and ends of material on 
hand, a pretty and becoming hat was fashioned for the 
much-dreaded journey. 

Collars and cuffs were made, and a pair of gloves were 
purchased. Margaret wondered if shrouds were ever 
looked upon with greater heart-pain than she endured 
while making these preparations. For once, one of 
October’s loveliest days passed by unheeded, with no ad- 
miring glance from the appreciative eyes of Margaret 
Gray. 

She had little cause to regret her home, yet affection 
clung to it as the place of her birth. More bitter than 
all was the thought of leaving the friends at the par- 
sonage, with no hope of ever seeing them again. Hers 
was not a home to go back to, and she knew that she was 
never expected to return, not even for a visit. 

Life seemed most undesirable, as she saw it stretch 
out in blank desolation before her, and in looking over 
the way she had trodden, it seemed like years unnum- 
bered, since she stood shivering and awe-struck beside 


60 GLENWOOD. 

a newly made grave, and heard the clods fall on her 
mother’s coffin. 

“ I must sleep at home to-night, as it will he the last 
time,” said Margaret, with quivering lips. “ It is prob- 
ably the last day that night will close over me where my 
mother died.” 

Mrs. Alverton spoke her sympathy, and tried to com- 
fort her as best she could. 

The clergyman stood with thoughtful face, while his 
heart was secretly holding communion with God, and he 
seemed not to notice what Margaret had been saying. 


GLENWOOD. 


61 


CHAPTER VI. 

THE JOURNEY TO LOWELL AND THE COMPANY BY THE 
WAY. 

The night was spent at home, but not in sleep, as 
Margaret had said. It was one of prayer, sorrow and 
tears, and was filled with dread of the coming morrow, 
and of the days which were to follow. The more she 
tried to brace her courage, the more her heart failed 
her, at the thought of Lowell. 

Morning dawned cold and dreary, and wore the 
leaden hue of a true November day, in advance of the 
month it belonged to. 

Margaret was ready for the journey at the appointed 
time, looking as she always did, neat and ladylike, 
though pale and sad, with dark shadows under her 
eyes that told of the sleepless night she had passed 
through in prayerful pleading for guidance and pro- 
tection, and asking grace for the trials before her. 

Her father kept out of sight all the morning, but the 
cause was explained when little Dick volunteered the 
information that his pa was glad Marg’et was going 
away, and he wished that all the rest of them would go 
too, and never come back again. 

Mrs. Gray boxed Dick’s ears and told him to go 
about his business. 


62 


GLENWOOD. 


Margaret crushed back the scalding drops of sorrow 
that were just ready to fall, and made no reply. She 
left home, without making any attempt to see her 
father, since he seemed anxious to keep out of sight. 

She was like her mother in face, figure and disposi- 
tion. Her presence made it impossible for her father 
to forget the wrong he had been guilty of in the past, 
smiting him as it did with double force, whenever he 
looked into the sweet face of Margaret. It seemed to 
blot out all affection for her, if he ever had any. 

Mrs. Gray really showed heartfelt grief for the 
daughter who shrank so from the step she was forced 
to take. She tried to comfort her in a way peculiar to 
herself, and Margaret accepted it with gratitude, see- 
ing its sincerity. There was always a warm place in 
her heart for her stepmother, uncouth and peculiar as 
she was. She knew that in many things the woman 
tried to do right, in spite of discouraging surround- 
ings. 

When the morning of Margaret’s departure came, 
the Minister took their three children to the home of a 
neighbor to be taken care of, while he and Mrs. Alver- 
ton accompanied her to the stagehouse, where she was 
to take the lumbering vehicle which was to convey her 
over hill and dell, on her sudden and unexpected trip 
to Lowell. 

Margaret plucked a spray of white chrysanthemums 
at the gate, and gave a long, lingering glance at the 
parsonage, and at the drooping willow at the door, with 
its foliage still fresh and bright, as if it had received no 
hint of the approaching winter. The pale green of its 
leaves contrasted beautifully with the gorgeous color- 
ing of the maples near by, and with the rich maroon of 
the spreading oak at the comer of the fence, where its 


GLENWOOD. 


63 


great, strong arms had battled with the storms of many 
winters, and had grown stronger with every conflict, 
which had made it better able to withstand all that 
were to come. 

Mrs. Alverton drew the arm of the sorrowful girl 
within her own, in a close and warm embrace, as they 
turned away from the gate, where Margaret supposed 
she was taking her last look at the beloved home, which 
was so dear to her, for the affection she bore its in- 
mates, and for the kindness she had received there. 

Many cheering and comforting words were spoken 
by the pastor and his wife, to brace the sinking cour- 
age of the lovely girl, who was so suddenly thrown upon 
the world, to seek a place and shelter for herself, as 
best she might, while trembling with fear and appre- 
hension, in regard to her limited knowledge of the 
ways and means of doing it, or of giving satisfaction 
in the position she was sent to fill. She could think of 
no proper words to use in asking for a place, when she 
should reach her destination. She did not like to ask 
for information concerning it, and thereby betray her 
ignorance. The dread of going was almost too much 
for her to bear, and grew heavier every moment. 

“ It ought not to be any worse for me, than for 
others,” said Margaret, “ but I am so foolishly timid 
and shrinking, and so distrustful of my ability to get 
along, that it makes such a change as this, an inconceiv- 
able dread to me. I feel ashamed, when I think of 
others who have more self-confidence, which enables 
them to make a better appearance in taking such a step 
— consequently, they can do better for themselves than 
I can, which makes me wonder why I was born, if there 
is no place for me in the world.” 

This step, dark as it seems, may be the answer to 


64 


GLENWOOD. 


your prayers and ours in your behalf, Margaret,” said 
the Minister. “ Some good may come of it, that could 
not have otherwise been reached in the order of God’s 
Providence; though all things are possible with Him. 
Our prayers are sometimes answered, in what looks to 
us, in a roundabout way. Joseph was sold into Egypt. 
We can imagine the grief and sorrow it must have been 
to him, and we know what great things God did for 
him ; and through him, afterwards, and what great good 
came to his long sorrowing father and his brothers; 
so keep up good courage, Margaret. The sun shines 
above the clouds, and God rides upon the storm.” 

The stage came to the door, so all further conversa- 
tion was ended. Margaret gave her trembling hand 
for a tearful good-bye, and heard the Minister’s bene- 
diction of “ God be with you, Margaret, and keep you 
encircled in the shelter of His Almighty arm.” 

The door of the stage was closed. There was a flour- 
ish of the whip over the backs of the horses, and Mar- 
garet was borne away, while thinking of the text of 
the sermon she had listened to, the previous Sabbath. 
Over and over it repeated itself in her mind ; “ Ye 
know not what a day may bring forth.” 

Yet, great as this change had been, she little dreamed 
of the still greater change another day would make in 
her whole life and destiny. 

The stage contained but three passengers beside her- 
self — an elderly gentleman and lady, and a half grown 
boy, who left, after a ride of a few miles. Eor the next 
hour, Margaret was the only occupant of the stage. 
When she was left alone, she gave way to her sorrow in 
sobs and tears, from an uncontrollable sense of desola- 
tion, heartache, and utter hopelessness, which amounted 
to almost despair. 


GLENWOOD. 


65 


At last the stage stopped at the little village of Bent- 
ley to change horses. When they were ready to proceed 
on their journey, two other passengers took seats with 
Margaret, on their way to New York. 

There was a lady, something past middle age, and a 
gentleman of thirty-three or four, or perhaps a little 
less. There was an unmistakable air of culture and 
refinement about them, and both were remarkably fine 
looking, with something of a resemblance, reminding 
one of mother and son, though the lady looked scarcely 
old enough; yet such was the relationship existing be- 
tween them. 

The devotion of the son to his mother was something 
remarkable and beautiful in his superb manhood, which 
was not lessened thereby. 

When they entered the stage, Margaret had not had 
time to regain her composure. The smothered and con- 
vulsive sobs would betray her, in spite of her efforts to 
control them. Even though her face was averted, they 
knew that she had been weeping long and violently. 

The thin veil could not conceal the traces of her 
scarcely dried tears, as the lady could plainly perceive 
from the corner where she sat. 

Margaret was ashamed and confused, which helped 
her to gain the mastery over herself. She knew that 
they could not fail to observe that she had been giving 
way to her sorrow, small as it might look to them, or to 
others. 

Compassion was plainly depicted on the countenance 
of the mother and her son, yet they were too well-bred 
to stare, or betray curiosity. 

The sweet compassionate face of the lady wore lines 
of sorrow, and looked as if she longed to speak of com- 
fort, while that of her son was grave and thoughtful, as 


66 GLENWOOD. 

if his heart were easily touched at sight of grief or 
suffering in others. 

Neither of them spoke, or obtruded themselves upon 
Margaret’s notice, till a long time had elapsed, giving 
an opportunity for her to fully recover her composure. 
When she did look up, or rather turn her face from the 
window, where she had been persistently looking out on 
the dreary landscape — pleasant voices greeted her. 
There was conversation on the weather and other indif- 
ferent topics, till the lady asked in sweet, motherly 
tones, if she was mourning or grieving for the loss of 
friends. 

Margaret’s face flushed instantly, not knowing what 
reply to make. She felt that she owed an apology for 
disturbing their peace of mind with even a semblance 
of her grief. She knew that there were many greater 
sorrows in life ; and she was sure that the lady had ex- 
perienced some of them, which made her feel ashamed 
to tell the cause of her tears. 

“ I ask your pardon for disturbing you,” was her 
quiet reply ; “ but I was alone when I gave way to my 
feelings, and did not consider that some one might take 
a seat in the stage before I could obliterate the traces 
of tears.” 

“ You have no need to make apologies, my child. It 
was very evident that you did not wish to attract atten- 
tion, nor want us to see that you have been weeping. If 
you will tell us of your sorrow, perhaps we may be able 
to say or do something to alleviate it, unless it should 
be loss of friends by death ; ” and an involuntary sight 
escaped from the tender heart, as she thought of her 
own precious treasures that the grave held in its re- 
morseless keeping. 

“ I have been crying because I am not brave enough 


GLENWOOD. 


67 


to fight my own way in the world. I am homeless and 
alone, and belong to no one,” was the plaintively spoken 
reply. “ I have started on a journey that I shrink 
from, because I must go alone, and ask a place for my- 
self. I lack the courage and knowledge that would en- 
able me to do it in a creditable way, and in the best 
manner. 

“ I have a poor idea of the figure I shall make, when 
I apply for a position that I know nothing about. I 
have a paper to show, which tells who, and what I am, 
and I fear it says too much in my favor. I have felt 
from the first, that I would rather die, than meet what 
lies before me. It came very suddenly upon me, and 
was a shock — silly as it looks, that completely unnerved 
me. I have been greatly troubled for a long time to 
know what was to become of me. I have worried over 
it, day and night, and it had robbed me of needful sleep 
and rest. It was hard for me to know that I was not 
wanted at home, where I have always tried to make 
myself useful. Poverty was the main cause of my dis- 
missal, I am sure. I have a stepmother, and she has 
six children of her own. Hone of them are old enough 
to do anything towards their own support, and there is 
but little for them to subsist on. I am the only one of 
my mother’s three children who was left at home, and 
of course, I am old eoungh to do something for my 
maintenance, or else die, or get married, out of the 
way.” 

Margaret’s lovely face burned with blushes, while 
narrating this much of her history. Somehow, it came 
harder for her to speak of it, with a gentleman looking 
earnestly at her, with his large, penetrating eyes, and 
his fine face expressing deep interest in all that she had 
been saying. 


68 


GLENWOOD. 


Well, that is enough to cry for. Don’t you think 
so, mother ? ” 

“ Yes, indeed ! And now if you will tell us where 
you are to go, perhaps we may aid you in that direc- 
tion, in some way. If not, you certainly have our 
sympathy. If there is any assistance that we can ren- 
der, we shall do it with pleasure, for none of us should 
live to ourselves, hut should strive to aid each other over 
the rough path of life.” 

‘‘ I thank you most heartily for your sympathy and 
kind wishes. I think there is nothing that you can 
do, as I am sent to Lowell to work in one of the fac- 
tories.” 

“ Why to Lowell ? Was there nothing you could do 
at home, or near home ? ” asked Mrs. Glenwood, for 
that was the lady’s name. 

“ I do not approve of girls going so far from their 
own friends, and going alone. I do not wonder you 
cry over it. If one is to go as a teacher, and the posi- 
tion is obtained in advance, the case is different. There 
is a committee to look after one, or some one else in the 
place of it. It is very evident that you are not one of 
the runaway characters, that shock and disgrace all 
womankind with their hold daring.” 

Margaret’s eyes dilated with a scared look. She felt 
that she might he misjudged by the strangers in whose 
company she was thrown, and by the world at large, 
wherever she might come in contact with it. It cast 
a new and darker shadow on the matter, and was some- 
thing she had never dreamed of, and her heart sank 
accordingly. 

Her expressive countenance betrayed that the mer- 
cury of her feelings had gone down, and tears were 
ready to start again. 



■ Would you iniiid telling us the reason you ought 
to go to Lowell ? ” 



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GLENWOOD. 


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“ Would you mind telling us the reason why you are 
to go to Lowell ? ” asked Mrs. Glenwood, gently. 
Could you not do better, nearer home ? ” 

“ Yes, if getting married would have been better. I 
was rebellious, and refused; utterly and entirely — so 
my punishment is Lowell.” 

She ended the sentence with a gleam of merriment 
in her eyes, and a faint smile on her lips. 

The gentleman laughed outright, revealing a set of 
white teeth beneath the brown mustache, while a strong, 
well-shaped hand stroked the short full beard beneath 
it 

Even the lady could not repress a smile, so glad was 
she to see Margaret’s face brighten, and note the change 
that it made in her expressive countenance. 

I beg your pardon for the laugh,” said Ralph 
Glenwood. “ I am aware that it is too serious a matter 
to laugh over, but did they think that Lowell would 
bring you to terms, and that the wedding would be 
brought about, as the result ? ” 

“ ^To ! Their hopes are dead in that direction. 
They have tried me too long, and find me a hopeless 
case. I could not be compelled to marry for a home, 
nor for the sake of having some one to support me. 
As far as that matter is concerned, and as far as my 
observation has gone, I cannot see but what a woman, 
in any of the common walks of life, has to work as hard, 
and often harder, than one who is single; and usually 
with less health and strength, and under greater diffi- 
culties. I did not care to marry, unless I had some 
higher object in view. I am sent away to get rid of me, 
wholly and entirely, since they have given up the last 
hope of my marrying.” 

They did not think that your extreme age would 


J 


GLENWOOD. 


be a barrier against such an event, should it occur in 
the near future, did they ? ” asked the gentleman, with 
his blue eyes sparkling. “ You must be between eight- 
een and twenty, now. I suppose they saw the approach 
of coming age, and the necessity for haste ? ” 

Don’t Ealph, I am ashamed of you,” said his 
mother, laughing, in spite of herself. Margaret’s face 
was transfigured for an instant, as a gleam of merri- 
ment flashed over it again. 

“ Whether old age was near or remote, they knew I 
would have to eat during the time that would be con- 
sumed in the uncertainty of my ever marrying, so they 
saw that loss would be incurred by delay.” 

“ Had you no respect, or liking for the suitor, or 
suitors ; if there were more than one ? ” asked the mascu- 
line member of the party. 

“ None in the least, and never could have had ! If I 
were to marry, I would have to love on my part, and 
be loved in return, and I could never love where I could 
feel no respect.” 

“ You are right,” said Mrs. Glenwood, her face 
beaming with pride in Margaret’s sentiments. “ There 
speaks the heart of every true woman. But, my child, 
you have reason to be thankful that you are not forced 
to comply with the wishes of your people. All are not 
permitted to go to Lowell, instead.” 

“ I am thankful I could escape by being sent there, 
and yet I have sorrowed so, over having to go.” 

“ If there was more than one suitor, were they so 
near alike that there was no choice between, or among 
them ? ” asked the lady. 

“ There were three, who were at times determinedly 
persistent, though I never lowered my self-respect by 
keeping company with any of them. The time given me 


GLENWOOD. 


71 


to make my choice, has extended over four years. I 
was sixteen then. I am five months past twenty now. 
I have no wealth to make me attractive to any one of 
importance.” 

“ Will you tell us something concerning these 
three ? ” asked Ralph Glenwood, all attention and ab- 
sorbed interest; and as Margaret lifted her dark eyes 
to his face, she thought she had never seen so noble a 
specimen of manhood, intellectually and physically. 

She did not wonder at his mother’s evident pride in 
him, if his face could be taken as an index of his heart 
and character. 

“ Do tell us,” pleaded the lady, if the subject is not 
unpleasant for you to recall ; ” and a look of tender- 
ness was bent on the fair face of the girl, which was 
pale and wan, and pitiful in its expression, now that 
the flush of weeping had passed away. 

‘‘ Not unpleasant, since I need not hear about it any 
longer,” was the reply, as a fleeting smile passed over 
Margaret’s face, and brightened it into new beauty, 
like sunlight on troubled water. “ I can talk over it 
calmly, now that I am leaving it behind me. It will 
help me to bear with a braver spirit the step I am now 
taking. The thought of it will enable me to face more 
willingly whatever I must endure in the future, in my 
contact with the world. 

“ A Mr. Brown was the most persistent candidate 
for my hand,” was the reply, as a shimmer of mirth 
came into her dark eyes. “ He did not care for my 
heart. He had none of his own to give in return. 

“ He had riches, as they are counted in country 
places. My stepmother, as well as my father, was de- 
termined that I should be a sharer in them. He owns 
broad acres, and more farms than one, and has fine 


72 


GLENWOOD. 


horses, cattle and sheep, and money on interest. He 
is a bachelor, keeping house with his mother, but he 
was not old. My refusing him, was the cause of this 
trip to Lowell. Were I to classify the man, I should 
place him among the lower order of animals.” 

There was another laugh from the gentleman, and 
an amused smile that ended in a ripple of laughter 
from Mrs. Glenwood, which was musical and sweet as 
the chime of distant bells. 

“ But I love animals,” Margaret continued. They 
are true to nature, and are what Nature’s God in- 
tended them to be; but when I see a man, I want to 
see one who is superior to the brute creation. 

“ I believe a man who possesses any manhood, will 
seek some way of self-improvement in mind and cul- 
ture, and if he is lacking in education, he will seek to 
remedy it, and will strive to obtain some knowledge that 
will fit him for a place among men.” 

“ That is most true,” assented Mrs. Glenwood, “ look 
at some of our great men, and think through what dis- 
couraging difiiculties they obtained knowledge, and be- 
came great, in the broadest sense of the word. How 
our hearts exult in the thought that most of them were 
good, as well as great, and greatest of all in their no- 
bility of character, more than in their wealth. Some 
have achieved greatness without wealth, and world- 
wide fame and honor has been accorded them. Some 
have obtained wealth without greatness — and though 
all men cannot be great in science and statesmanship, 
yet all can know something, and be something, by im- 
proving the talents God has given them. Manhood 
ought to be a grade or two higher than the animal cre- 
ation, as you said but a moment or two since,” and she 


GLENWOOD. 73 

turned her eyes on Margaret, with a smile of approval 
resting on her still lovely face. 

“ Mother, I wish that you two would give lectures 
on the subject you have both handled so ably and con- 
vincingly. The very spirit you breathe is enough to 
inspire manhood in the most unpromising subjects,” 
said the gentleman, with his face glowing with the 
sentiments of his heart which had been aroused to 
enthusiasm by the conversation he had listened to with 
rapt attention. ^ 

“ Could you not have helped this Mr. Brown to make 
something of himself ? ” he asked, looking intently at 
Margaret. 

“ Nothing on earth could have induced me to try it, 
although I am aware that many sweet and noble 
women have helped their husbands to an education and 
to greatness; — but mind and intellect were there to 
begin with, and these are the nobler part of manhood, 
when the heart is thrown into the balance, and the 
moral nature brings it up to the proper equipoise. 
They never would have turned out to be such noble men, 
afterwards, had not this been the case.” 

“ That is true,” said both listeners, as they noticed 
the fine expression of Margaret’s face, lit up with the 
glow of soul that spoke her feelings more eloquently 
than words. 

“ You have analyzed the component parts of man- 
hood exactly,” said the gentleman. “ It is well that 
you did not undertake the fellow. I think, as you do, 
that Lowell is the better choice. 

“Did he have an idea that his worldly possessions 
would be a passport to your favor ? ” 

“ He had not a doubt of it ; but I loathed and de- 


74 


GLENWOOD. 


tested him. I would not have married him if he had 
owned all the kingdoms of earth.” 

“ You have the right side of that question also,” said 
the gentleman, smiling. 

** Can you tell us more of this Mr. Brown ? ” 

“ There is little to tell. My stepmother was sure that 
any girl would jump at the offer, and would be proud 
to accept him, but it was his property she thought of. 
She wanted me to have it. She thought me a fool, and 
said I need not be so stuck up, and she did not know 
what I expected; and, of course, hinted at my extreme 
poverty in the broadest terms, as the very reason why I 
should accept him. 

“ I did not expect anything, by marrying for it. I 
had never troubled head or heart, thinking about it, in 
any way. I had enough else to do, and think of, with 
all that I wished to study and learn. 

‘‘ I heard it harped on so much, that I detested the 
very name of marriage. I hope that the subject is 
dropped now, forever. I prefer to work for a living, 
so my face is set for Lowell.” 

“ I do not wonder that the subject became distaste- 
ful to you,” replied Mrs. Glenwood. “ But can you 
tell us something of the other parties ? ” 

“ There is less to tell of them than of Mr. Brown. I 
would not have anything to say to them. I brought 
more than one storm about my ears, on that account. 
They were younger than Mr. Brown; sons of farmers, 
a little better off than some of the others. They felt 
that fact, very sensibly. They could smoke and chew, 
use bad language, and deal in coarse jokes, and laugh 
louder and longer over them, than any one else; and 
swagger around, with their hands in their pockets, and 
their hats tilted on the side of their heads, and could 


GLENWOOD. 


75 


barely read or write, but they seemed to think that no 
girl could help falling in love with them. You may 
perhaps think, as others have thought, and said : ‘ Why 
were they not good enough for a girl, poor as I am ? ’ ” 

“ No, we do not,” protested Mrs. Glen wood, while 
her stalwart son seemed absorbed in thought, with his 
eyes on the ground, only lifting them long enough to 
thank Margaret for narrating the history of her un- 
promising suitors. 

“ You seem to belong to a different class, entirely. 
We honor you for not sacrificing yourself in that way, 
as too many have done, to their life-long sorrow.” 

“ Did you shrink from being a farmer’s wife, as so 
many of the young ladies do, of the present day ? ” 
asked Ealph Glenwood, all attention as before, and still 
alive to the subject in hand. 

“ Not in the least. But in marrying a farm, the 
owner has to go with it. No one is likely to give me 
one. My objection was to the men who owned the 
farms, in this case. They are not, I am sure, fair types 
of farmers in general. I have had no matrimonial 
offers from the better class. If I were to marry, farm- 
ing would be my choice of occupation for a husband, if 
I had it to choose. It seems to me, safer, and more 
secure from loss and total failure, than almost any- 
thing else, although my father’s ill-success would be 
enough to turn any one against it forever; but some 
men cannot succeed anywhere. They will not apply 
themselves, and have not the ability nor energy to win 
success in anything. 

“ I think there is no sorrow like that of a thriftless 
husband, unless it be a drunken one. I could never 
endure either, and live. Going to Lowell is not the 
hardest thing in life, if I am foolish enough to cry over 


76 


GLENWOOD. 


it. I have always cherished a tender feeling of sym- 
pathy for the wife of Rip Van Winkle, and never 
blamed her for using her tongue in scolding Rip for 
his laziness. But what could Washington Irving know 
of a woman’s heart ? 

“ I am aware that there seems a lack of consistency 
in my crying over going to Lowell, when I am glad of 
even that means of escape from a still greater evil, 
which has inspired nothing but shrinking dread of 
hearing the subject mentioned.” 

“ I see no lack of consistency,” said Mrs. Glenwood. 
“ I think you cry from a sense of desolation and heart- 
pain, because the lesser evil looks hard, as you have 
to leave home and friends, and go alone, and ask for 
your position, yourself. Eor one of your nature and 
temperament, it must be trying, indeed. I do not 
wonder that you shrink from it. I wish that some 
easier way had been opened to you; though Lowell is 
not a bad place.” 

The Minister and his wife tried to prevail upon 
me to accept a home with them. I could not do it, 
knowing that they would suffer for it. His salary 
would barely suffice for their own support, even if it 
were all paid, which it never is. They think Mrs. 
Alverton has no need of assistance in her work. They 
have spoken of it, even when I was really needed to 
aid her in her household duties.” 

Margaret told of all that has been narrated in re- 
gard to herself and the Alvertons, only leaving out 
much of the credit she was entitled to, for the aid and 
comfort she had been in the retired parsonage, whose 
inmates were grieving over her loss; and were lifting 
their hearts in prayer for her, even then, while she was 


GLENWOOD. 


77 


being borne nearer to her destination, or destiny, which- 
ever it might prove to be. 

“ My services would still be of use to Mrs. Alverton,” 
said Margaret. “ Her health is poor, but my assist- 
ance would not be productive in any possible way of 
adding anything to their income, so I sorrowfully de- 
clined their offer, for their sake. 

I can never forget how much their kindness has 
brightened and sweetened my life. They have aided 
me in my studies, ever since I was a child, and have lent 
me books, and have helped me in every way; and at 
last, led me to find peace and pardon at the foot of the 
cross ; though the face of God, in whom I have trusted, 
seems hidden from me now.” 

Tears again filled the beautiful eyes of Margaret 
Gray, in spite of her efforts to swallow them down into 
the fountain of grief from whence they came. She 
turned her face to conceal them, while she watched the 
dreary-looking sky, where the clouds were thickening 
and darkening and settling lower in the atmosphere, 
betokening the near approach of a storm. 

She thought how emblematical it was of her life, 
with no brightness nor beauty in it, and no ray of light 
to shimmer through the thick darkness that enveloped 
her pathway. 

Mrs. Glen wood looked at Margaret in her dejection 
of spirit, with a face almost tearful in her keen sym- 
pathy, and said, “ I am glad that you have even the 
friends at the parsonage to think of. The solace and 
aid they have given you is something to keep your soul 
from despair, sad as it is, over the step you are now 
taking. We are so blind at the best ; we at times fail 
to walk by faith, as we are commanded. 

I am sure that God will not forsake you, now that 


78 


GLENWOOD. 


the way is so hedged around with difficulties. He is evi- 
dently trying your faith in the goodness of His Provi- 
dence. Can you not trust Him still ? 

I will try ; but all is dark. My faith has become 
weaker, now that I need sustaining grace more than 
ever.” 

“ I am sure that this is but a temporary darkness. 
He who gave you the friends at the parsonage, will 
raise up friends elsewhere. You surely cannot doubt 
Him now,” said Mrs. Glenwood, in a persuasive tone, 
as if entreating for a favor. 

Her son said nothing. He had been for some time 
looking grave, if not stern, as if some perplexing 
thought occupied his mind and he had heard nothing of 
the conversation. 

“ The Minister and his wife came to see me off,” 
said Margaret, with a brighter look. “ They spoke 
many words of hope and cheer to my foolish, trembling 
heart, and assured me that they would pray for me, but 
I am too despondent to see any hope or light in any- 
thing, at present.” 

Other eyes were misty now, but Margaret did not 
see it, with her downcast face; her sad eyes, partly 
concealed beneath the drooping lids, seeing nothing but 
the dark past, and the still darker future, while she was 
brooding sorrowfully over having to leave the Minister’s 
family, as well as everything else she had ever seen or 
known. 

“ Poor child 1 ” were the soothing words of Mrs. 
Glenwood. “ My son and I must think what we can 
do to make this step easier for you, in some way.” 

“ Please do not allow yourself to be troubled on my 
account. I am sorry that I have not borne up better. 
I have said too much. I do not know why I did it. I 


GLENWOOD. 


79 


am not in the habit of talking about myself, at any 
time. I have been trying to learn the lesson of re- 
pression and patient endurance, but I seem to have for- 
gotten it, to-day.” 

“ You have not said much of yourself, but have told 
us something of how you came to be here, and only 
told that, because we asked it,” said Mrs. Glenwood. 
“ I fear the recital has distressed you too much.” 

“ No, not in the least,” was the softly spoken re- 
sponse. “ The interest you have manifested in me has 
greatly helped my faith in all humankind. The path 
to Lowell does not seem so heavily overshadowed, as 
it was when I came from home this morning. The hill 
of difficulty is not so steep to climb, by many degrees, 
though I am in the slough of despond, and seem likely 
to stay there, or I should have rallied more under your 
kindness.” 


80 


GLENWOOD. 


CHAPTER VII. 

MAEGAEET EELATINQ SOMETHING OF HEE HISTOEY. 

The stage stopped at a village inn for the passengers 
to take dinner, and to change horses as well. 

Mrs. Glenwood and her son alighted, and invited Mar- 
garet to take dinner with them, telling her that they very 
much wished her company. 

A startled look and many thanks was their reply. 
Still, Mrs. Glenwood pleaded from a true desire to show 
kindness and sympathy, in the only way she could think 
of, under the circumstances, as she was unwilling to 
wound Margaret’s overmastering pride. 

“ I do not wish to have any one see that I have been 
weeping. I feel badly enough for having been caught 
at it, in the first place,” said Margaret, with a faint 
smile. “ Besides that, I have plenty of food with me, 
that Mrs. Alverton provided for the needs of the jour- 
ney, and insisted on my taking it, though I was sure 
I should never care to eat again.” 

They smiled at the gleam of humor which overspread 
the lovely face for a moment, and saw that Margaret 
was again holding the mastery over her feelings, though 
they knew that sorrow was there, all the same. 

Mrs. Glenwood hastily entered the ladies’ room at the 
small hotel, and ran out again, as lightly as a girl, to 


GLENWOOD. 


81 


tell Margaret that no one was in the room, and she 
could eat her lunch there, without being seen, since she 
declined going to the table with them. 

Margaret, with thanks, complied with their wishes, 
and found welcome rest in the change of position, as well 
as in the kindly courtesy shown her. 

After dinner, when the driver of the stage called for 
the passengers, Ralph Glenwood came with a package 
of oranges, figs and dates, and placed them in his 
mother’s lap. They shared a portion of the fruit to- 
gether, though Margaret was almost compelled to accept 
the larger portion, and was urged to put in her satchel, 
what she could not eat at the present time. The simple 
act of kindness was more refreshing to the world-weary 
girl than the fruit itself, while her eyes spoke her grat- 
itude plainer than words. 

The stage jolted on, past fields and forests, and fertile 
farms, and across bridges, and murmuring brooks, some 
of them nearly dry in their stony beds, and others still 
babbling their songs of summer to the banks that were 
yet green, and beautifully bordered with brilliant 
autumn flowers. 

Here and there were visible the golden blossoms of 
the witch-hazel, in company with alders, that had al- 
ready put out their tassels for another springtime. The 
passengers noted it all with watchful interest, having 
nothing else to claim their attention, except the distant 
mountains, and the many hills that were growing darker, 
as the air became cooler, as if saddened with the chang- 
ing mood of Nature after the brightness of the previous 
day. 

The clouds were thickening, and piling one upon an- 
other, giving sure indications of the fast approaching 
storm. 


82 


GLENWOOD. 


Margaret turned her anxious eyes still oftener on the 
frowning sky, which was as dark as the outlook before 
her, and seemed as dreary as her life had been since 
her mother died, and as if divining her thoughts, Mrs. 
Glenwood asked tenderly, how long it had been since she 
was motherless. 

“ Since I was eight years old.” 

“ Will you tell us something of your mother, if it 
would not pain you too much ? ” 

Certainly I will. I love to speak of her, and think 
of her ; and yet, it seems like a far-past dream, to think 
that I ever had a mother, or that I was ever blessed with 
a mother’s love. But I remember much concerning her. 
Mr. Alverton and his wife, and my eldest brother have 
told me much more.” 

“ Where are your brothers now ? ” asked Mrs. Glen- 
wood. 

I do not know,” was the sorrowful reply, in a voice 
that had in it a suggestion of tears. “ They could not 
tolerate the needless poverty at home, and the discord 
and turmoil. They were thought less of, by my father, 
on that account. I am sure that they were sent away. 
I know that they would not have left me without a lov- 
ing word at parting, if they had not been made to do it. 
I could see that they were not wanted at home, by 
my stepmother, at least, so I have had that to sor- 
row over too. The minister thinks that they will show 
themselves some time. He is very sure that the good 
seed my mother sowed in her sorrow, will yet bear fruit. 
I have watched and waited for some word from them, 
with weary longing, but none has ever come.” 

Margaret told of her mother’s sorrowful life, and 
early death; her struggles, and her toil; and what she 
achieved, after her parents cast her off for wilfully 


GLENWOOD. 


83 


marrying beneath her. And then she spoke of the 
downhill course everything had taken since her mother 
had slept beneath the daisies. 

Her listeners could see how devotedly that mother’s 
memory was cherished by the loyal-hearted daughter, 
who had inherited all her mother’s virtues, while she 
was free from the faults which over-indulgence had en- 
gendered in the mother, who was otherwise so perfect, 
and had paid such a terrible price for her one act of 
’ self-will and disobedience. 

Mrs. Glenwood listened with much interest and atten- 
tion, and was deeply touched at the recital of two lives 
— Margaret’s and her mother’s, and the conviction of 
truth that it carried with it. 

A false and designing woman might have told stories 
as pathetic ; and in a way to appear as plausible as hers, 
but never with a face, as pure, sweet and sad as Mar- 
garet Gray’s. A false and artful woman might even 
have shed crocodile tears to give a show of truth to her 
words, but Margaret had shed most of her tears alone. 
The two who had listened to her recital were moved to 
tenderest compassion and sympathy. 

“ I have often wished that I might go as a missionary 
to some far-off land,” said Margaret, and there find 
work to do for the Master, and be of use to others, even 
though it might be in a small way. I have no one to 
mourn my absence, except the Minister’s family, nor 
grieve if I should die. I have been so distrustful of 
my ability and my fitness for the work, that I have de- 
layed offering myself, and my services, hoping that I 
might be better fitted for it, in time. I did not know 
the requirements in the case, and I was ashamed to make 
inquiries. I dreaded ridicule, and had the fear that I 
was too ignorant of theology o* religion, to be a teacher 


84 


GLENWOOD. 


in a missionary school. I wondered whether I must 
study something of theology first, or wait for inspira- 
tion to teach me. 

“ With my lack of experience, and my short and im- 
perfect Christian life, I was still more diffident about 
offering myself for such a high and holy calling. It 
looked like presumption in me. If I were going on a 
missionary ship, I am sure that I would not have cried 
over it as I have cried over going to the prosperous city 
of looms and spindles, to finish my days there.” 

It may not be too late now, for you to go as a mis- 
sionary,” said Mrs. Glenwood, with a look of admiration 
in her eyes, as she took in the expression of Margaret’s 
face. 

Kalph and I must think this matter over during the 
remainder of our journey, as we are to accompany you 
as far as ITew York. I have no accurate knowledge 
myself, of what preliminary steps are necessary in such 
cases.” 

Ralph Glenwood seemed to have nothing to say, and 
still looked as if he were absorbed in deep and puzzling 
thought. He did not lift his eyes, till Margaret took 
from her satchel two books, and handed them to Mrs. 
Glenwood. 

One was a pocket Bible, on the leaf of which was 
written : 

“ Presented to Margaret Gray, by her friend and 
pastor, 

Rev. L. H. Alverton.” 

The other was a small volume of poems by Mrs. 
Hemans, with the sacred poems of H. P. Willis, bound 
with them. 

It was a little gem, very dear to Mrs. Alverton, but 


GLENWOOD. 


85 


her scarcity of means did not admit of her buying any- 
thing new for a keepsake for Margaret, so she insisted 
on her taking the little book, knowing how thoroughly 
she appreciated it. On the first blank sheet was written 
in a neat, womanly hand: 

Presented to Margaret Gray, by her friend, Mrs. 

L. K Alverton.” 

Prom the leaves of the little volume of russet and 
gold, a paper fluttered out, as if determined to show it- 
self. Margaret colored, as Ralph Glenwood picked it 
up, and reached it out to her. 

“ You may read it, if you will,” she said, the flush 
deepening painfully on cheek and brow. That is the 
paper which is to be my passport to obtain me a place 
to earn my living.” 

He opened it and read: 

This is to certify that the bearer, Margaret Gray, 
has been personaly known to me, and to my family since 
her childhood. She is loved and honored for her purity 
of life and character. She is careful and conscientious 
in the performance of duty, and is intelligent and active, 
and worthy of all trust and confidence. I would be- 
speak for her the kindness and careful consideration of 
any lady or gentleman of whom she may ask employ- 
ment. 

Respectfully, 

Rev. L. H. Alveeton.” 

Ralph Glenwood read it twice over, while Margaret 
sat uneasily pondering over the strange problem of life, 


86 


GLENWOOD. 


and wondering what there could be in that little slip of 
paper to make him look so grave and thoughtful. When 
he had finished, he handed it to his mother, who read 
it in the same manner, a second time, as did her son, 
and then handed it to Margaret, with a smile. 

‘‘ Do you wonder that that paper is one of the chief 
dreads that I have to encounter ? It looks to me like 
asking people to read and see how good I am,” and 
again a faint smile, and a sparkle of mirth gleamed in 
her eyes, and died out as quickly as it came. 

Mrs. Glenwood was evidently struggling with some 
emotion as she watched Margaret’s changing counte- 
nance. She thought such a girl should not lack for home 
or friends, nor for a place or position in life, nor need 
such a document to make people understand her worth, 
and worthiness, when it showed so plainly for itself. 
She did not wonder that Margaret felt pained at the in- 
justice of the fate that would subject her to it; like the 
coarser-grained material, who do not mind going with 
a character ” in their hand, every month, and some- 
times oftener. 

She felt a still greater desire to comfort Margaret in 
some way, as she said, with a forced smile, trying to 
hide her secret thoughts : “ Some such papers would be 
necessary, now that you are going among strangers, 
since you have no one to go with you, or to speak for 
you. It was very proper for the Minister to write it, 
as he has known you so long. He is undoubtedly sin- 
cere, for he knows that it would be an easy matter to 
refer to him, his name and address being on the back 
of the note in full. 

“ Give yourself no uneasiness, my child. ‘ When thy 
father and thy mother forsake thee, then the Lord will 
take thee up.’ He led the children of Israel through the 


GLENWOOD. 87 

wilderness before they reached the promised land. 
Trials often come before triumph. 

“ We of course do not know the meaning of this 
dispensation, though I am sure some good will come 
of it, if you do not let go His hand. We read that all 
things work together for good to them that love God. 
He has assured us that His promises shall never fail. 
It is evident that He has called you by your name, 
and He has set His seal upon you, and you are His. I 
feel sure that all will yet turn out well, and that you 
will be led from this, into brighter paths, though I, of 
course, cannot tell how, nor where. I can only say, 
‘ Trust and believe.’ ” 

Margaret breathed her thanks, and seemed to have 
grasped the promises anew, for her face became in- 
stantly brighter. 

Ralph Glenwood drew a sigh, as if he had been hold- 
ing his breath under pressure of some hidden emotion, 
though he still kept his eyes downcast in earnest 
thought. 

While they had been talking and thinking, they were 
borne past homes and farms of prosperous plenty, where 
busy hands were husking corn in fields dotted with gol- 
den pumpkins, the larger of which were destined to be 
made into pies and puddings, and their smaller brethren 
to be converted into milk, butter, ham and bacon. 

The stage stopped to throw off and take on the mail, 
and to water the horses; and when they started again, 
another passenger took a seat with them. 

He was a young man just out of his minority, who 
evidently considered himself of some importance in the 
world, and wanted others to understand it. He put on 
many dude-like airs, not having sufficient sense to see 
that nothing could more thoroughly defeat his object. 


88 


GLENWOOD. 


He had not yet learned that worth has weight and 
stability enough to stand on its own merits, so he made 
a ridiculous figure of himself, in one way or another, 
till they saw the last of him. 

He was not long in finding something to admire in 
Margaret’s sweet face and perfect figure. The blue 
eyes of Ralph Glenwood scintillated like sparks of steel, 
as the stranger grew obtrusive in his rude staring. Mar- 
garet’s pale cheeks began to show rising color that grew 
deeper every moment with indignation, till at last there 
was an appealing look into the eyes of Mrs. Glenwood, 
as if asking what she should do. 

The gentle, motherly heart read the glance, and 
asked her to take the back seat with her, which she did 
at once, with low spoken words of thanks. 

The young man fidgeted uneasily, till he turned him- 
self in a way to get a view of Margaret in her secure 
corner, and, as if to be admired in some way, he threw 
over the back of the seat a hand decorated with a huge 
paste ring, that is abhorrent to any but vulgar taste. 

The rain which for hours had been held back, began 
to fall ; — first, in a fine mist, and then in larger drops, 
accompanied with fitful gusts of wind that rocked and 
swayed the coach, as the tired horses sped on. To Mar- 
garet’s great grief, the storm grew worse every moment, 
making her dread the more the journey of the night; 
but she tried to banish it from her face, for fear of dis- 
tressing her new friends. 

When they again stopped to throw off the mail at a 
little village, the new passenger alighted, and the Glen- 
woods and Margaret hoped that it was the last of him. 
He soon returned, however, and took good care to take 
the front seat, facing Margaret, where he could have a 


GLENWOOD. 89 

direct view of her face, as he supposed, for the re- 
mainder of the journey. 

Mrs. Glenwood told him that riding backwards might 
make him sea-sick, but he was not to be moved from his 
determination. 

He seemed to enjoy the opportunity of gazing at 
Margaret, and assiduously improved it, till Ralph Glen- 
wood bethought himself of taking the middle seat, di- 
rectly in front of her, which gave the stranger a chance 
to devote his attention to something else. 

Mrs. Glenwood smiled to see her son’s broad shoulders 
screen Margaret so effectually from the obtrusive glances 
which had been persistently bent upon her, — but not to 
be foiled, the stranger reached forward a package of 
candy, which Margaret promptly refused, though he still 
held it out, and tried to urge her to accept it. 

You are making yourself altogether too forward in 
your attentions,” said Ralph Glenwood, with smothered 
wrath. Please take your seat and keep it. It is 
neither kind nor gentlemanly to annoy the young lady 
in that way. She does not care for the candy.” 

“ Be she your sister, or your sweetheart ? ” 

“ It won’t take long to show you, if you don’t be- 
have yourself,” was the stem and decided rejoinder. 

Pshaw, now ! you don’t mean to say that a fellow 
like you wants to fight, do you ? ” 

I mean to say that you have got to keep your tongue 
to yourself.” 

The young man looked at the fine, muscular propor- 
tions of the speaker, as if trying to weigh his chances 
in such an encounter ; and then he subsided into silence 
for a short time. 

Ralph Glenwood took a paper from his pocket, and 
began looking at it, as if he were reading, but his 


90 


GLENWOOD. 


thoughts were evidently elsewhere. His countenance 
wore the same stern and impenetrable expression, as if 
his ire had not yet cooled. He seemed unable to com- 
pose himself, although he looked immovable in his quiet 
dignity. 

The stranger was surveying him carefully, from head 
to foot, as if envying the strong, well-proportioned 
figure, and the finely shaped head and classical features 
that matched it — and then asked abruptly, with a smile 
and a sneer : 

“ Be you from Buffalo, mister ? I thought maybe 
you was. Them whiskers of your^n look like it.” 

He held down his head and laughed immoderately, 
while the face before him was as calm and stern as ever, 
and seemed not to notice that the remark was addressed 
to himself. 

All were silent for some time, and seemed busy with 
varied thoughts, while the storm raged on, and gave no 
hope of abatement. 

“ Maybe the ladies would allow me to smoke ? ” said 
the speaker of the party. “ This Quaker meetin’ makes 
it seem sorter lonesome in here, for a feller that wants 
ter be kinder sociable,” and he brought forth from a side- 
pocket a huge cigar, and a match to light it. 

“ You will not bum your unhallowed incense here, 
in the presence of ladies,” said the gentleman whose 
smoldering wrath had again broken the barrier of 
silence. 

“ Whar have yer wimin-folks been raised, if they 
never smelt tobacker smoke afore? Have a cigar, 
mister ? They won’t mind it, if you smoke too,” and he 
reached out a handful of the cabbage leaf variety, for 
his stage-coach companion to choose from. 

“No, thank you, not by any means! and you shall 


GLENWOOD. 91 

not insult the ladies bj attempting to light your cigar 
here.’^ 

I didn^t know you owned the old ark we are sail- 
ing in. But maybe you do. Shouldn’t wonder if that 
is yer ockerpashion,” was the half-drunken leer, as he 
put the cigars in his pocket, but could not settle himself 
into quiet. 

“ If you are owner, an’ builder, an’ runner of this 
thing, then I hev nothin’ to say,” and he ended the 
sentence with a long, loud laugh at what he supposed 
was a fine piece of wit, instead of insulting impudence. 

“ Hold your peace, now, and at once, or you will take 
a seat outside, whether I am owner here or not,” was 
the stern reply. 

It came to that in a few moments. Bad whiskey and 
riding backwards soon took the color out of the coarse, 
unprepossessing face, as he showed unmistakable symp- 
toms of nausea. The driver was called to compel him 
to take a seat higher up, though he declared that he 
would not do it. He had paid for a seat inside, and he 
would have it, he said. But he met determination as 
strong as his own, and soon he was outside, in spite of 
his profanity and his determined resistance. The driver 
ordered him to get up on the seat with him, or stay by 
the roadside till the storm was over. He could take his 
choice. 

He declared he was going to Hew York that night, 
so he was forced to comply, and was helped to a seat 
with the driver. 

The stage moved on towards the end of the trip, too 
late to take the train they intended to reach, owing to 
the storm and heavy wheeling. 

After Ralph Glenwood was seated in his old place 
again, Margaret rose to go to hers; but Mrs. Glenwood 


92 


GLENWOOD. 


gently detained her, telling her to remain where she was, 
if she found it comfortable. 

Margaret spoke her thanks, and again occupied the 
seat she had been invited to take. Her face also told 
her gratitude for the kindly efforts which had been put 
forth to shield her from the rude attentions of their 
traveling companion. 

Conversation was attempted, but thought and expres- 
sion did not seem to flow easily, till Ralph Glenwood 
proposed to his mother the plan of staying over night 
at the end of the stage route, instead of going through 
to Hew York, as they had at first intended. 

Hight will close in early. It will be dark and 
rainy, which will make it unpleasant for both of you, as 
you cannot help being drabbled in the wet, changing 
traveling conveyances.” 

Margaret looked frightened and distressed, but said 
nothing, till Mrs. Glenwood replied that she was of his 
opinion, and would prefer to stay over. 

“ What do you say to it. Miss Gray ? ” asked the 
gentleman, as he looked into the troubled and anxious 
face, and caught the shadow of its meaning. 

“ I cannot stay. I must go on, in any case. There is 
no other way for me. I dare not add to the expense of 
the journey by staying over night, however much I may 
wish to do so. I want the dreaded affair over with, and 
off my mind.” 

“ The expense will not be yours,” said Mrs. Glen- 
wood. I must have you for company this dismal 
night.” 

“ I thank you with all my heart for the kindness, but 
I cannot accept it, and have you pay my expenses.” 

A faint flush overspread the pale face, while the white 


GLENWOOD. 


93 


lids dropped lower over the downcast eyes, sad with trou- 
bled thoughts. 

This is the pride you hinted at, my child. 'And 
would you punish yourself to gratify it, when it would 
rob you of real honest good ? ” 

Margaret blushed deeply, though Mrs. Glenwood’s 
tone was gentle, and pityingly tender, as she looked 
earnestly into the young face now lifted to hers. 

“ Yes, it is my pride. It has often been my helper, 
but it has still oftener punished me cruelly. It was a 
part of my heritage. I could never subdue it entirely.” 

“ Pride is well in its place,” was the soft voiced 
reply. “ Its influence is ennobling under certain re- 
strictions. A person without good, honest pride, is 
hardly a human being. It is a thing that ought to be 
cultivated so as to make every one wish to be somebody. 
We should all cherish the pride of wanting to do well, 
and be well thought of — so I do not condemn it, my 
child, but you must not let it rob you of any good that is 
kindly and honestly offered you.” 

Would you put my son’s gentlemanliness to the 
blush, by allowing a lady to pay her own expenses for 
the night, whom his mother had invited to be her 
guest ? ” 

“ I most earnestly hope not,” said the deep voice of 
the hitherto silent listener, with a kindly smile. 

I did not understand it in that light,” said Mar- 
garet, “ but if my company would be agreeable to your 
mother, and, if I can render any assistance in any way, 

I will accept the invitation with pleasure and with 
thanks. I am hardly myself, and I fear that my com- 
pany will not pay the cost, yet I trembled at the 
thought of going on alone, this stormy night ; though it 
seemed inevitable. I was secretly blaming myself for 


94 


GLENWOOD. 


shrinking from it, as it is mj duty to go where I can 
earn a living, since I have no home, and I am not 
needed anywhere else.” 

Never mind it to-night, my child,” said Mrs. Glen- 
wood. Your face showed your fears, but your com- 
pany is really essential to me. I should not have felt 
like stopping in this out-of-the-way place if you were 
not with me. So we will rest in the care of Providence, 
hoping for a better day to-morrow. % 

“ My youngest born was a daughter, and would have 
been about your age, but for fifteen years my arms have 
had to do without her.”- 


GLENWOOD. 


95 


CHAPTER VIII. 

WOOING, AND A WEDDING AT A WAYSIDE INN. 

The stage stopped for the night. The poor steaming 
horses were no doubt as glad as were the travelers, to 
obtain comfortable shelter, food and rest. 

The small stage-coach party found everything pleas- 
ant and neat, while the storm raged on with redoubled 
fury, which made them glad that they had the time to 
turn aside and rest, without pressing business cares to 
trouble them. 

The inebriate passenger of unpleasant memory ap- 
plied for lodgings also, in spite of his previous anxiety 
to get to New York; but he was refused, and had to 
betake himself elsewhere. 

Margaret was unspeakably thankful for the kindness 
shown her, and brightened up into something like her 
real self again. As soon as their wraps were off, and 
they were seated in the comfortable parlor of the hotel, 
they conversed on different subjects, much of the con- 
versation being addressed to Margaret, either to cause 
her, in a measure, to forget her sorrow, or to draw her 
out, and see the scope and breadth of her mind and in- 
tellect. 

When at last conversation flagged, and Mrs. Glen- 
wood and her son spoke of people and things connected 


96 


GLENWOOD. 


with their own life, or mentioned personal matters, 
Margaret, with the delicacy of good breeding, withdrew 
to the window to look out at the fast gathering shadows 
of night, and to be out of hearing, especially as their 
conversation lowered in more subdued tones, as if home 
matters were being discussed. 

Some little time had passed, when Margaret suddenly 
sprang aside from the window, her new friends spring- 
ing as suddenly forward to see what was the matter, and 
were surprised at the presence of their stage-coach com- 
panion, asking Margaret to let him in, as if he were 
a friend, or a relative. When other faces appeared, the 
smile he put on for Margaret, quickly vanished, and he 
vanished with it; though he soon presented himself at 
the door, and asked to see the young lady in the parlor, 
saying that she had beckoned to him from the window. 

“ Where is your card, and what is the young lady^s 
name ? ” asked the landlord. “ You cannot go in, with- 
out first sending in your name. You are not in a fit 
condition to see anyone, anyway.” 

“ I ain’t so all-fangled fine, nor stuck up, as ter carry 
that kind of pasteboard with me, everywhere I go,” was 
the smart reply, ** an’ the girl don’t want me ter blat 
out her name to every tarnal fool that asks it. Yer own 
sense orter tell you that much.” 

You will have to keep a civil tongue In your head, 
if you talk to me,” said the landlord, wrathfully. 

If you keep a public house, I’ve as good a right 
ter victuals and a bed, if I pay for it, as that high-toned 
coon that yer are ready ter take inter your arms, figur- 
atively speakin’. I kin pay the shot as well as he can, 
if I hain’t got such a lordly figgerhead with quite so 
much baird on it, nor them white teeth of his’n.” 

Poor Margaret'! To her intense shame, the landlord 


GLENWOOD. 97 

came to ask about tbe affair, and began to repeat wbat 
the stranger had said. 

Ralph Glenwood cut him short, bj replying that he 
had never seen the young lady till he had met her in 
the stage, that afternoon. 

He asked if she were my sister. His every word 
concerning her has been a falsehood,” and as he spoke, 
he took no small strides to the outer door, and settled 
the affair, with some very pointed words, with an in- 
terlude of profanity from the landlord, to think that 
his guests had been troubled with the drunken, ill-bred, 
and over-conceited young man. 

Margaret quivered from head to foot. She was sure 
she was disgraced, and that her new friends would 
think there had been some previous acquaintance with 
the stranger. Her tears fell thick and fast, in spite of 
her efforts to restrain them. 

Mrs. Glenwood and her son sought to soothe her with 
kindly words, and she herself, tried hard for com- 
posure, thinking that she was only a trouble to them, 
when they had tried to befriend her, and seeing that she 
could not restrain herself, added greatly to her grief. 

“ I surely never saw him, before, and why did he 
try to disgrace me, by pretending otherwise ? ” was the 
piteous plea of the troubled heart that had borne so 
much; and the hot tears were followed by smothered 
sobs, that shook the slight frame as if they would rend 
it to pieces. 

She longed to be out of sight, and away, alone; and 
above all, she wished herself, “ where the wicked cease 
from troubling, and the weary are at rest.” 

“ Is this the world I am to encounter, and are such 
creatures called men ? ” she asked, between her sobs. 

“ I am ashamed to own that such a degraded sped- 


98 


GLENWOOD. 


men belongs to my sex, and bears the common title given 
to man,” said Ralph Glenwood. But do not be dis- 
tressed, nor feel so aggrieved. It 'was liquor that gave 
him such brazen effrontery and insulting impudence, 
but I will see that he troubles you no more.” 

“Ralph shall see you safely at Lowell, if you must 
go, and I shall accompany you,” said the tender voice 
of the mother. “ I could not let you go alone now, 
anyway, after all this annoyance to you, and the inter- 
est we feel in your welfare. I have never visited 
Lowell, though I have long been wanting to see the 
place, which does so much towards clothing so large a 
portion of the world.” 

“ ISTo, no ! ” exclaimed Margaret, “ that would be too 
much trouble. I could never repay it in all my life — I 
mean the kindness. I might perhaps earn the money to 
pay the expenses; but that would be the smallest part 
of the indebtedness.” 

“ Hush, my child. Hot another word of protest, or 
I shall almost think that we are accused of meanness. 
It would be that, and nothing less, if we permitted you 
to encounter any more such trials, since we can as well 
see you at your destination as not. 

“ I know that you do not intend to imply it ; but your 
nerves are overstrained and unstrung with grief and 
anxiety, and your heart is sore with this great change, 
and the dread it has occasioned you, and, besides that, 
you are almost ill. So rest in our care to-night, and in 
the care of Him who is over all His works. Feel as- 
sured that He will not desert you, nor will we leave 
you exposed to insult and annoyance.” 

Ralph Glenwood stood with folded arms, while his 
mother was speaking — his face pale, and grave — think- 
ing, none knew what. 


GLENWOOD. 


99 


Margaret softly murmured her thanks, but could say 
no more. Her heart was too full for utterance. 

She had been so bright, after it was settled that they 
were to stay over till another day, they had wondered 
at her masterful control of her feelings. She was self- 
possessed, and showed fine conversational powers, with- 
out affectation, or making a needless display of her 
knowledge. There was sweet and becoming modesty 
and reserve, which helped irresistibly towards winning 
the hearts that were touched with compassion for her, 
in the first place. 

“ Mother, supper will soon be ready. I should have 
selected our rooms for the night,” broke in her son. 
The bell sounded for tea while he was yet speaking, 
so it had to be deferred till afterwards. 

“ If Miss Gray does not wish to have it seen that 
she has been weeping, we can have a tray sent in, with 
her food, and let her have perfect quiet,” said the gen- 
tleman of the party. 

“ Oh, no, thank you,” replied Margaret, “ I have 
sufficient food for two or three meals yet, and would 
like to reduce the quantity.” 

“ I fear that you would like to get rid of eating, 
altogether,” was the smiling answer. 

“ So I would, but I shall do my duty by myself bet- 
ter than that. I shall be mindful of the needs of the 
body, though the distress of mind and heart have over- 
shadowed them, till it seems strange that I ever cared 
to eat.” 

“ Then you make the promise in earnest, do you, 
like a good girl ? ” asked Mrs. Glenwood. 

“ Yes, certainly, and promise better behavior in all 
respects,” though they noticed that the long lashes 
were still wet with tears. 


LOFC. 


100 


GLENWOOD. 


Ealph Glenwood gave his arm to his mother, and they 
left the room, after a few more cheering words to Mar- 
garet. 

Soon a tray appeared, laden with good things to eat, 
in spite of her protest, and she was again left in com- 
pany with her own thoughts. 

The dining-room was some distance from the parlor. 
On their return from supper, Mrs. Glenwood stopped 
her son in the hall for a few moments’ conversation. 
He saw by her looks that there was something of im- 
portance on her mind, and wondered what it could he. 
She opened the subject abruptly, saying with an anx- 
ious expression of countenance: 

“ Ralph, I wish you would marry this peerless Mar- 
garet, if she will have you. I would prefer her, above 
all the girls who have fluttered around you, since you 
grew to manhood.” 

‘‘ I could not marry them all, mother.” 

“ Be still with your jokes, and be attentive,” was her 
smiling answer. You know I left the table, for I 
missed my handkerchief. I exchanged my shoes for 
slippers, before tea, and did not notice that my tread 
made no sound. The door was ajar, and I saw Mar- 
garet on her knees, in pleading prayer, with her hands 
clasped in a beseeching attitude. I could not disturb 
that sacred appeal to Heaven, so I returned without 
my handkerchief, and left her with God, who I am sure 
must have bent down to that earnest petition. 

Oh, Ralph ! Will you try to win her, so that she 
may be ours; always? If she were yours, she would 
be mine also. I have often urged you to marry, but I 
have never seen a girl or woman whom I would so love 
to look on as your wife. This queenly Margaret whom 
Providence has thrown in our way, in need of our 


GLENWOOD. 101 

protection, is the one of all others who should bear your 
name.’’ 

“ My mother a match-maker ? I never would have 
dreamed it.” There was a look of pretended horror on 
the handsome face, that caused his mother to laugh, 
though she continued to say what she intended to, as 
her face sobered down almost instantly into grave en- 
treaty. 

“ She would not waste your substance in extrava- 
gant show, nor lead you from home, to city life, for its 
gayety. She is refined and cultured, and has style 
enough to appear well, anywhere, and in any society; 
she is so thoroughly ladylike in every way. Have you 
observed how perfect are her manners, and how well- 
bred she is, and how sweet and gentle her disposition ? 
Who would think or believe that she is a rose of the 
wildwood or wilderness, and that she has hitherto 
wasted her sweetness on the desert air.” 

“ I have observed it all, mother, and was taken cap- 
tive at once, though I tried to conceal it. This same 
rose of the wilderness, in her snowy purity, has stirred 
depths in my nature that have slumbered till now ; and 
with your sanction, I shall try my fate, and if I can 
win her, she shall blossom in the paradise of our home, 
at Glenwoo'd. I shall ask her to be my wife, although 
I very much fear that she will not accept me. In that 
case, you must help me plead my cause. My heart is 
deeply involved, and would suffer keenly. If I should 
not be able to win her ; and, for fear that she might es- 
cape me, by going to Lowell, 1 will ask her to wed me 
before the ten o’clock train to-morrow morning. 
There would be no need to sue for her hand, in such 
haste; only she is so anxious to finish her journey to 


102 GLENWOOD. 

Lowell, we could offer no pretext that would detain 
her.” 

“ It is a sudden step, to be sure,” replied his mother, 
“ but it seems as if I had known her all her life. She 
runs no risk in accepting you, Ralph, if it can be 
brought about. I am so strangely impressed in her 
favor, I have not the slightest fear of the result, if she 
should become your wife to-morrow.” 

It comforts me to hear you speak in such confi- 
dence. Your impressions are almost prophecies, in any 
case. If I were a villain, I should not care to come 
under your eye. You would surely detect it. Your 
views and impressions of the young lady exactly coin- 
cide with mine, so I shall try my fate without hesi- 
tation.” 

As Ralph Glenwood ceased speaking, he gave his 
arm to his mother, and they entered the parlor together, 
with hopeful hearts and brighter faces. 

There was a look of calm repose on Margaret’s coun- 
tenance that they had not seen before. 

It was evident that God had sent the angel of com- 
fort to her soul, and had spoken “ peace ” to its troubled 
waters. 

She had been reading the Bible, and had not had 
time to replace it in her satchel — and, though she was 
not ashamed to confess Christ before men, she never 
made a parade of religion. She was afraid that these 
new friends might think her Bible was used to make her 
appear better in their eyes; so she hastily covered it 
with her handkerchief, not noticing that one corner of 
the sacred volume betrayed itself. 

Mrs. Glenwood and her son stepped before her, and 
complimented her on her brighter looks, adding that 
they were glad to see that she had partaken of nourish- 


GLENWOOD. 


103 


ment, knowing that she would feel better and stronger. 

Ralph Glenwood then said, with a grave and serious 
countenance, “ You have evidently been seeking com- 
fort from a Higher power, as I see by the book lying 
in your lap. May I ask what special passage, or text, 
brought you the blessing ? ” 

Margaret’s soft brown eyes were lifted to his face, 
as she replied gently : “ My grace is sufficient for thee.” 

The lids of the blue eyes above her, closed for a mo- 
ment, as if to shut out the light, which seemed to cause 
a mist to gather in them. The expression of his face 
was still grave and impenetrable. 

I am glad that you have found comfort,” said 
Mrs. Glenwood. ‘‘ I have often obtained it from that 
source, when it could come from no other. I know 
from experience that God is a present help in every 
time of trouble.” 

As she ceased speaking she turned from the table 
and took a seat near the fire. The autumn air was chill 
and damp, and they feel it more, who are past the noon, 
and are going down the sunset slope of life. A small 
fire burned in the grate, giving a cheery look to the 
room, and Mrs. Glenwood was soon seeing glimpses of 
the past as well as the future, as she gazed into the glow- 
ing coals which have a way of setting us musing while 
the fire burns. 

“ Do you believe in the efficacy of prayer ? ” asked 
the gentleman, still standing before Margaret. 

“ Certainly I do,” was the unhesitating response. 
“ How can we believe otherwise, if we have any knowl- 
edge of the Bible, or of God, who says : * The very hairs 
of your head are all numbered, and that not a sparrow 
falls to the ground without your Heavenly Father’s 
notice,’ and He says : ^ Are ye not of more value than 


104 


GLENWOOD. 


many sparrows ? ’ Some of our prayers may be to 
Him like the unreasoning requests of children, which 
He sees it is not for our good to answer as we wish. 
There may be love, even in His denial of our entreaties, 
while in other cases we may not ask aright, nor in faith ; 
so we lose the blessing we crave. It cannot be that God 
is at fault. He says that His promises are sure, and He 
bids us to ask, that we may receive, and tells us to cast 
our burden on Him who careth for us.” 

“ A theologian could not have given a more con- 
vincing answer,” was the earnest reply. 

Margaret colored and dropped her eyelids to partly 
shade her eyes, and sat in silent thought. 

“ You probably prayed to God in this affair of the 
journey you are undertaking. May I ask what were 
your requests, and what was the burden of your 
prayer ? ” 

The silvery voice was as gentle as ever, with her 
heart and soul as unruffled as if her placidity were im- 
movable. Her clear eyes were uplifted to his, with no 
change of expression in their depths, nor in the calm 
face, as she replied : 

“ I prayed that God might go with me and guard, 
guide and protect me. I am confident that He has done 
so, or I should not have fallen into such kindly hands 
during the journey.” 

“ Ealph Glenwood, I am ashamed of you for asking 
that last searching question. It was too personal,” 
said his mother. “ I can hardly believe it of you.” 

“ I am ashamed of myself, mother, but Miss Gray’s 
gentle reply is a keener rebuke than. the sharpest words 
could possibly have been. I can say to her as did one 
of old, ‘ Thou almost persuadest me to be a Chris- 
tian; ’ ” and the solemn expression of his face told of 


GLENWOOD. 


105 


the sincerity of his words, as he still kept his position 
before her. 

He stood for some moments in thoughtful silence, his 
countenance changing into an expression that Margaret 
could not fathom, except that it was deeply solemn, 
earnest, and tender. He broke the silence at last by 
saying in low, tender accents ; “ You have kindly told 
us of yourself. Miss Gray, and now in return I will 
tell you of what little there is to tell of my life, with its 
lights and shadows, its joys and sorrows. 

“ I am thirty-three years of age, and was educated 
for the bar, but my plans of life were suddenly altered 
when my noble brother died, trying to save the life of 
another. He sleeps in an honored grave. I am the 
only son of my mother, and she is a widow. Our hero’s 
grave is hallowed ground to us, and his memory is 
something most sacred and holy. He, whose life he 
saved, is a servant of God, and a missionary in a 
heathen land. He dedicated his life to the services of 
the Master as soon as he knew how noble was the life 
which had been given for his. It has been a great 
comfort to us in our bitter bereavement. 

Our noble Frederick, in his young and perfect 
manhood, was much for my widowed mother to give up 
to the cold, remorseless grave. There were so few of 
us, after the death of my father. Judge Glenwood, of 
the Supreme Court, so inexpressibly dear, and the little 
sister, who has dwelt with the angels for fifteen years. 
My mother is doubly precious to me for her sorrow and 
bereavement, and thus far, in our loneliness we have 
lived for each other.” 

Mrs. Glenwood was softly weeping. The mention 
of her sorrow had opened the gates that led to the 
vaults of her dead ’’She could feel afresh the blow 


106 GLENWOOD. 

that had severed them from her clinging arms, but not 
from her affections. 

Margaret’s dark eyes were brimming over, as she 
still kept them uplifted to the speaker — entranced and 
spell-bound, she knew not why. 

“ I could not leave my widowed mother with her 
many sorrows and go to the city to practice law, not 
even to win for myself a name of honor; nor could I 
take her from her loved rural home, sacred with its 
joys and sorrows, so I follow the business of farming 
and stock-raising on my mother’s farm and mine ad- 
joining. 

“ We live quietly and unostentatiously at our home, 
which bears our name — Glenwood. Our means are 
sufficient for a more elaborate display, but that is not 
in accordance with our taste or inclinations. 

“ My manhood and honor are without stain or blem- 
ish, and ours is an honored name. Whatever pride I 
possess is centered there. And now. Miss Gray, I offer 
you my heart and hand, and ask you to become my 
wife.” 

With staring eyes she gasped for breath to speak and 
could only stammer out, in a dazed way, her fingers 
working nervously with her handkerchief. 

“ I think I do not understand you, Mr. Glenwood. 
There must be some mistake.” 

“ No, Margaret, there is no mistake. I love you, 
and ask you to be my wife. Take to-night to think over 
it, and marry me at nine o’clock to-morrow morning, 
so that we may take the ten o’clock train to the city and 
spend some time at sight-seeing, if that would be pleas- 
ing to you. We can visit the great fair, which was the 
object that took us to the city at the present time, and 
then we can decide what we will do next. It may be 
a difficult question for you to decide, since you would 


GLENWOOD. 


107 


have to take me on trust, yet God helping me, I will be 
to you a good and loving husband, and will strive to 
make you happy and cause you to forget the rough path 
you have trodden thus far. I have no time to woo and 
win your love before marriage, as is the custom of other 
men, but I will do it afterwards. In the meantime, if 
you wish, you shall be with my mother during our stay 
in Hew York, giving me a lover’s privilege to win your 
whole heart, till every fibre is closely interwoven with 
my own. 

I have my mother’s sanction in this. She longs 
for a daughter to love her in the place of the one whom 
God gave and took again to Himself.” 

Margaret was all blushes now. Her eyes fell beneath 
the ardent gaze of the blue orbs looking upon her, while 
the strong arms were eager to enfold her, yet dared not 
advance one step for fear of defeating his cause. , 

“ I thank you with my whole heart, Mr. Glenwood, 
for the honor you have conferred upon me, yet I am 
bewildered as if in a strange dream where the element 
of reality is wholly wanting. Besides that, you may 
regret that you have spoken so hastily by the dawn of 
another day. Compassion or sympathy may have actu- 
ated you more than you are aware at present. You 
may be deceiving yourself without being conscious of 
the fact. Such a thing as this has never entered my 
mind. I am too startled and bewildered to think or 
act rationally. I only know that you could find others 
who would suit you better, with a greater endowment 
of beauty and not wholly penniless. I have nothing at 
all, as you probably understand from what I have told 
you. There are others who move in the higher walks 
of life, who are more attractive in every way, and 
among them you could probably take your choice.” 


108 


GLENWOOD. 


I have taken my choice now, Margaret, and have 
waited long enough to choose well, and I am well satis- 
fied with my decision. The highest walk of life is 
duty patiently performed, and using our spare time 
for the best and highest culture of mind and heart, as 
I see that you have done under great and discouraging 
difficulties. You are not lacking in education, culture 
nor refinement, and that is all I ask, with a heart and 
soul as true and pure as yours. Only love me, Mar- 
garet, and I shall be doubly blessed. Your wealth is 
the same that many a noble woman has brought her 
husband, and has been to him a treasure beyond the 
price of rubies. And as I read you, Margaret, I would 
not exchange you for all the wealth of Golconda. ISTo, 
nor for all the world besides ! It could not feed the 
hungry affections of my heart, nor satisfy the newly 
awakened longings for the partner of my life. The 
Book in which your faith and trust are laid, tells us 
that a good wife is from the Lord, and this night I 
ask that treasure from His hand. My heart has seemed 
impervious till now, though in my youth I had some 
boyish fancies, or preferences, which had no love in 
them. The depths of my heart and the love of my man- 
hood have slumbered till you awoke them. Until you 
crossed my path, I never knew its meaning. My mother 
has wished me to marry ever since I was twenty-five 
years of age, yet I have never seen the girl or woman 
whom I have wished to call my wife. I do not say it 
in self-laudation as if none were good enough for me. 
I could not marry without love, such as I have felt my- 
self capable of bestowing, so I have never sued for it 
in others. I had not yet found my ideal which has 
lived in my dreams and fancies through all the years 
of manhood.” 


GLENWOOD. 


109 


“ I may not be your ideal, after all,” said Margaret, 
“ and if I accept you, you might be disappointed, and 
I should find it a deeper sorrow than I have ever yet 
known. I should be heartbroken, for I could never be 
an unloved wife. It would kill me. 

“ You have offered all that I could wish, and far 
more than I could ever expect — but this is an affair 
where my heart must dictate and decide for me. I 
could never marry for any honor that marriage might 
confer upon me, or I should yield a ready compliance 
with your wishes and need no time for consideration. 

“ I wanted work, but not to work simply for a living. 
I have wished to do something more than that, and leave 
the world better for my having lived in it. I do not 
want to do it for show, nor praise, nor for money. It 
would be abhorrent to me. I want to work for others. 
I longed also to work for the good of home, but I was 
not permitted to teach. They were determined that I 
should marry for a home of my own. 

“ There are, no doubt, many ministers and Chris- 
tian workers in Lowell, as in other places, and I could 
learn of them, since I am cast off from home. In time, 
I may perhaps go as a missionary, or take some useful 
place in a less noticeable way, and do some good to the 
sick and suffering somewhere else. It would seem far 
better than working for wages.” 

“ You can be of great use to me, Margaret. I lack 
the thing needful. You can be my teacher in divine 
things, and lead me to the foot of the cross and to God. 
You can also be a lifelong joy and comfort to my 
mother in our lonely home. She is still a mourner for 
those whom God has taken. You have won her heart, 
as well as mine. You said I might be disappointed in 
thinking you my ideal, and you would be heartbroken 


110 


GLENWOOD. 


if you were an unloved wife. !N’o, Margaret, no ! I am 
sure of my own heart. It is you, whom I have waited 
for. I could not make myself believe otherwise all 
day, and the conviction has grown upon me every mo- 
ment. I loved you at first sight, and secretly quarreled 
with myself all the hours of the journey, and the re- 
sult has been only the sure conviction that you have 
taken my heart captive. It is lost to me, unless you 
give me yours in return.” 

Her graceful figure drooped, with a slight bending 
of the head, so that she did not see the pained expres- 
sion of the fine face above her, nor know his eagerness 
to plead his cause. 

Mrs. Glenwood rose and came to Margaret, and 
softly kissed the sweet brow, saying with a voice all ten- 
derness and entreaty : 

“ I hope, my dear, that to-morrow will give you to 
us, to hold and to keep — now and hereafter — in this 
world, and in the world to come. Death cannot sever 
these tender ties. Heaven is made of love, and God 
will not take it from us there. Love is the fulfilling of 
the Divine law, and is all that is left us of lost Para- 
dise — and what are we, and what is earth without it ? ” 

“ I know not how to thank either of you for this 
honor,” softly murmured Margaret. It is sweet to 
be loved an(f cared for. None can feel it more sensibly 
than I do, who have hungered for it, all my life. It 
may look silly and weak, but it is a craving I could 
never repress, since my mother died. I probably should 
not have confessed it, if love had not been offered me 
now: I will search my heart thoroughly and see if I 
can find an answering chord that may thrill in time 
with responsive love. If not, I must keep to my deci- 
sion; but I will ask aid and guidance of God in this 


GLENWOOD. 


Ill 


mementous question which holds the destiny of two 
lives that have been so unexpectedly thrown together.” 

“ I will see about apartments for the night, mother, 
since I was too late to be attended to, before tea,” said 
Ralph Glenwood, after a few moments’ silence. 

“ Certainly, my son. I wish a room with two beds in 
it, and I would like to have your room near by.” 

“ Am I so delicate that I need your care through the 
night ? ” he asked, trying to smile, but it died away in- 
stantly. 

“ You hardly look it, but I always want you near 
me in case of fire or illness. And, besides that, it seems 
less lonely, if I chance to be wakeful.” 

“ Your reasons are logical, so I will do as you wish, 
thankful for a mother’s love, as I always have been.” 

Mrs. Glenwood looked pityingly into the manly face 
of her son, as she saw the expression that told how 
troubled his heart was, with the strange unrest and 
torture of almost hopeless love. His countenance, so 
pale and grave, seemed to wear lines of added years 
since morning. He greatly feared that Margaret would 
reject his suit, and there seemed to be nothing more 
that he could say which would aid his cause. 

Margaret was deeply pained also, as she noticed the 
white, set face, and saw the play of conflicting emo- 
tions which were new to both of them. He was striving 
hard for mastery, and trying to brace his courage for 
the blow which he felt would take with it the better 
part of life. 

He soon returned from his mission to the landlord, 
and reported favorably, and then seated himself at the 
table beneath the hanging lamp, while Margaret was 
seated on the sofa opposite. Mrs. Glenwood left her 
easy-chair by the fire and took a seat beside her, as if 


112 GLENWOOD. 

wanting to talk, and yet seemed unable to find words 
to express herself. 

“ Since none of us are in a frame of mind for con- 
versation, if you will lend me your book, Margaret, 
we will have some reading,” said Ralph Glenwood, in 
a subdued tone of voice, showing the effort at repres- 
sion and self-restraint. 

“ Certainly,” was the reply, and Margaret rose and 
handed the book without further words, except that 
looks spoke volumes on both sides. She could have 
wept for the pleading expression in the blue eyes, as he 
reached out his hand to take the book of poems which 
she handed him. The very silence of the room was elo- 
quent with deep thought and still deeper feeling as he 
opened the volume and turned to “ The Healing of the 
Daughter of Jairus.” 

He read with masterly skill of tone and inflection, 
and with tender pathos, and Margaret was entranced 
and spellbound. Without lifting his eyes, he turned to 
another, and still another, and read on, with the same 
depth of feeling showing itself in the masterly tones 
of his cultured voice, which was modulated to sub- 
dued tenderness, as if in awe of the sublime sacredness 
and beauty of those matchless productions. Then 
again, as if in the presence of the Deity Himself, he 
read “ The Raising of Lazarus.” 

Margaret felt that she could listen forever, without 
fatigue or loss of interest. 

“ Have I wearied my listeners ? ” he asked, with a 
face that had caught the inspiration of the theme so 
ably handled by the poet. 

Both answered in the negative, and requested his 
continuance, if he were not too tired. 


GLENWOOD. 


113 


Mournfully he read “ David’s Grief for His Child,” 
and “ Jeptha’s Daughter.” 

Soft tears rained from Mrs. Glenwood’s eyes, and 
pearly drops splashed over Margaret’s pale cheek as 
he read The Widow of Hain,” and lastly of all “ The 
Baptism of Christ.” 

Still his listeners wearied not; but, wishing Mar- 
garet to have all the time possible for reflection, he 
closed the book. She thanked him with a new expres- 
sion in her eyes as they met his, and he half interpreted 
their meaning, yet he dared not hope. 

After handing her the book, he quietly rested his 
white forehead in his hand, shading the eyes of summer 
blue that held a woman’s tenderness in their sparkling 
depths, but they were shadowed now with deep and 
anxious thought over the question which concerned all 
his future life, and in which his whole heart and soul 
were centered and absorbed. 

The storm raged on without abatement. The cold 
rain sobbed against the window panes, and swept the 
street with sheets of water, and howled dismally down 
the chimney as if enraged at the comfort within. The 
hearts of the temporary inmates were deeply thankful 
for the comfortable shelter for the night and were full 
of pity for those less fortunate. 

Mrs. Glenwood proposed retiring, though it was yet 
early. Her son seconded the motion, and accompanied 
his mother and Margaret to the room of his selection. 
Margaret was quiet in demeanor, only speaking when 
spoken to, never dreaming of the tempest of unrest in 
Kalph Glenwood’s heart. She grew inexpressibly 
dearer to him every moment, and the thought of losing 
her was almost too much for him to bear. 

'After giving his mother her good-night kiss, he ex- 


114 


GLENWOOD. 


tended his hand to Margaret for a brief moment. The 
soft touch of her pliant fingers thrilled him through 
and through to his very heart’s core. He longed to 
speak, but could think of nothing but a repetition of 
what he had already said. 

As he bowed his head on leaving the room, an ex- 
pression flitted over Margaret’s face which gave him a 
momentary ray of hope, but it was soon overshadowed 
again. He paced the floor of his room long hours be- 
fore retiring, and even then, he was too restless to woo 
sleep or find repose. 

After the good-nights were spoken, Margaret thought 
how hard it would seem if their paths were to diverge 
in life, and she could see him no more. There was a 
new sensation in her heart. She was conscious of it 
all the while he read to them, and even before that, 
when his grave, pale face pleaded for him, after he 
had ceased to plead with words. As she was retiring, 
she felt that his case was not altogether hopeless, but 
the feeling was so new to her, she was not sure of its 
meaning. She thought and prayed much over it, and 
ere many hours of that eventful night had passed, she 
felt her heart beating in a responsive thrill to tbe 
rhythm of love. 

Even yet she would not have spoken, nor would she 
knowingly have given a look or tone that would betray 
her feelings or arouse hope in Ralph Glenwood’s breast 
for fear of after disappointment. 

She had noticed the pleading and half despairing 
expression of his countenance, which caused her own 
heart to ache for him, but that would not have moved 
her to a decision in his favor, knowing that it would 
be a wrong to him, and cruelty to herself. She knew 
that the weal or woe of a lifetime depended on her de- 


GLENWOOD. 


115 


cision. She dared not trust herself alone to give the 
reply, without a still deeper consciousness that it was 
love which was overwhelming every other feeling and 
sentiment. Hours passed, and then she slept, and woke 
again, and tried to analyze her feelings in regard to 
Kalph Glenwood. Again she laid the case before the 
God of her mother, which brought light and peace to 
her soul, so that she slept again, tranquilly and well. 

In the first faint gleam of dawn, Mrs. Glenwood 
dimly saw Margaret on her knees, committing herself 
to God, and asking His guidance in the affair of her 
destiny. Mrs. Glenwood made no sound, but when 
Margaret rose to finish her toilet, she bade her a pleas- 
ant good morning, and at once commenced her own. 
Margaret offered her assistance, but Mrs. Glenwood 
gently declined it, saying that she always waited on her- 
self, thinking it time enough to be waited upon when 
illness should make it necessary. 

As Margaret was arranging her soft, rippling hair, 
in wavy, glossy puffs, and putting on a fresh collar, and 
cuffs, Mrs. Glenwood took hope, especially as there 
was a new expression in the lovely face. She thought 
how thoroughly a lady she looked, from the crown of 
her head to the neatly dressed feet, which were small 
and shapely, as were her hands. But it was not the 
hands and feet that were considered in this question. 
It was the mind and heart, and the sweet, guileless 
soul of Margaret Gray. 

The dress that fitted so admirably the lithe, grace- 
ful figure, did nicely for a traveling suit and became 
her well. Her pale, patrician face was beaming with 
the new and glorious light of hope which had come 
after long chastening of sorrow. It was shining brightly 


116 


GLENWOOD. 


as the morning, which the rising sun was gilding into 
royal splendor after the drenching storm. 

As Mrs. Glenwood and Margaret looked out of the 
window, they saw the object of their thoughts pacing 
the garden walk with bowed head and with his hands 
clasped behind him, in which were a cluster of chrys- 
anthemums, that he had asked of the landlady. 

In a few moments there was a step in the hall that 
brightened the face of the mother. Years had taught 
her to know the footfall of her son, so she opened the 
door before he rapped for admittance. 

His face was deadly pale, after a sleepless night. 
He would have laughed at the thought of love keeping 
him awake, had it been mentioned to him at any previ- 
ous time. He gave his mother his usual morning kiss, 
and stepped to where Margaret was standing, and asked 
his fate. 

“ Do you not regret the offer of the past evening ? ” 
was the quiet inquiry. 

Ho, and a thousand times no ! ” was the decided 
reply. “ Say, darling, will you be mine ? Can you 

love me? If so, and if I am accepted, take these 

snowy chrysanthemums to wear in your hair on this 
occasion. They are white and pure like yourself, and 
like you, they were born of .the frost and storm, and 

have seen no summer. But let me call you mine, 

darling, and summer shall bloom for you, if not for 
them.” 

Margaret reached both her trembling hands for the 
cool, fragrant blossoms, but had no time to inhale their 
resinous perfume before she was caught in a pair of 
strong arms, and pressed to a manly heart in a rapture 
of love and an ecstasy of joy, while her face was re- 
peatedly covered with passionate kisses. 



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and an ecstasy of joy.” 




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GLENWOOD. 


117 


“ Have I no part in all this ? ” It was Mrs. Glen- 
wood who spoke, as she clasped them both in her arms, 
while she was fervently breathing her blessing on their 
lives, and imprinting tender kisses, first on the face of 
her son, and then on the blushing face, so fair and 
sweet, which he held on his bosom. 

The morning sun looked in, well pleased with what 
it saw, and beamed upon them with still greater splen- 
dor. The soft breeze tossed gold and crimson leaves 
into the open window, robbing the maple of its glory, 
to crown the two lives which were about to be blended 
into one. A belated robin sang a joyous song as if he 
had delayed his southern journey for the sole purpose 
of trilling glad notes on that joyous occasion. The 
golden haze of October rested dreamily on the moun- 
tains and hills, while the forests were ablaze with 
autumnal glory, clad in their holiday attire of rich and 
gorgeous dyes, as if for a grand carnival of pleasure, 
now that the husbandman’s work was done, and the 
harvest of the year was ended. The cloudless sky was 
as placid as if no storm had ever disturbed its serenity, 
or could ever again mar its perfect repose. The tem- 
pest of the past night seemed to have been wholly for- 
gotten. The joy of the three hearts in that upper room 
were in keeping with the happy mood of Nature. 

“ My sorrow lasted but for a night, and joy came in 
the morning,” said the happy bridegroom, as he looked 
at his watch and saw that no time must be lost in send- 
ing for a clergyman, and seeking a wedding ring and 
white gloves for three of them; mother, and son, and 
Margaret. 

Mrs. Glenwood lovingly arranged the flowers in Mar- 
garet’s glossy hair, and placed a cluster of the same at 
her throat, and in her belt, while she was tenderly re- 


118 


GLENWOOD. 


peating, over and over, the long unused name of daugh- 
ter. Never before had the word seemed so sweet to 
Margaret. She thought that one morning’s happiness 
compensated for all the sorrow and darkness of her past 
life, for she loved Ralph Glenwood with her whole 
heart and soul. Her communion with God and with 
her own heart through the night had made her more 
than conscious of the fact. She felt no fear concern- 
ing the step she was about to take. 

Ralph Glenwood soon returned, and breakfast was 
served in their own room, as there would be no time 
for it after the marriage ceremony. 

How strangely the words sounded to both parties, 
particularly as neither of them had ever given much 
thought to the subject, and, least of all, had they 
dreamed of such a sudden and unheard of step as the 
one now to he consummated, and one that it would not 
he safe for the world to follow. 

It is not often that Providence throws two such rare 
souls together as this peerless Margaret Gray and Ralph 
Glenwood, in his sterling perfection of manhood. 

The loving and tender-hearted mother, who had sor- 
rowed and wept so long over her buried treasures, 
eagerly grasped this new joy, and blessed and thanked 
God for it. 

They partook hut sparingly of the morning repast, 
while each urged the other to eat, yet could not, for 
the deeper feeling that had driven away healthful 
appetite. 

The clergyman soon arrived, and a small company 
assembled in the parlor of the hotel to witness the 
solemn and impressive ceremony, whereby two lives 
were blended into one. 

Then there were brief congratulations, as in days 


GLENWOOD. 


119 


past. The marriage certificate was duly signed by the 
proper witnesses, and Margaret laid aside her maiden 
name, to assume the new life that had so suddenly 
dawned upon her. Ralph Glenwood and Margaret 
went forth crowned with the dignity of husband and 
wife, feeling that the hand of God had directed them 
and had given to their union His divine blessing and 
sanction. 

A new love-light beamed in Margaret’s starlit eyes, 
and a soft glow blossomed in her cheeks, making her 
wonderously beautiful, added as it was, to the soul- 
beaming expression which had hitherto been her chief 
beauty, in connection with her gentleness and sweetness 
of disposition, which had been her legacy, and which 
her husband prized more than lands or gold. 

The mother lived over again the happiness of her 
own married life, in witnessing the joy of these, her 
children. Ralph Glenwood had never believed himself 
capable of such intensity of bliss. The happy party 
started for the train, where the huge locomotive was 
puffing and panting, as if its load and speed had been 
too great, and, like energetic people, it seemed eager 
to be off again with its precious freight of human life, 
with their joys and sorrows and their multiplicity of 
hopes and cares. 

Margaret had never before been in a railway coach. 
It was the part of the journey which she had most 
dreaded to take alone on her way to Lowell. 

Never before had she felt such restfulness, peace and 
content in the bliss of loving and being loved. 

Again the text of the previous Sabbath came to her 
mind: “Ye know not what a day may bring forth.” 
As she had listened to the sermon, she could with diffi- 
culty keep her thoughts from the dreariness of her own 


120 


GLENWOOD. 


life, which seemed to stretch away before her in the 
same torturing unrest, with as little for hope to cling to 
in the future, as there had been in the past, and with no 
thought of change for the better, unless she could teach 
school or go as a missionary in foreign lands. She 
knew that disaster often came suddenly, and that good 
has usually to be long planned for and earnestly sought, 
while it often fails at last, in spite of human efforts to 
achieve success. She felt that she ought not to have 
been surprised at the suddenness of the decision that 
she was to go to Lowell ; but now, she was a bride and 
a wife, with new hope and a new song of joy in her 
heart which made it seem that she could not realize her 
own identity. It was to her, like the fabled transfor- 
mations of the Arabian Nights.’^ 

Some such thoughts were passing through Ralph 
Glenwood’s mind, as he looked at the fair being beside 
him. He could with difficulty make himself believe 
that she was all his own, and that nothing but death 
could take her from him. He recoiled at the word with 
a shudder as he thought of it in connection with Mar- 
garet, his bride and his wife — his new treasure, dearer 
to him than life itself. 

His mind dwelt on their strange meeting and its re- 
sults, and the new ties so suddenly and so indissolubly 
cemented with the bond and seal of marriage. When 
he thought of Margaret’s faith and trust in him, he 
resolved that she should never for a moment have cause 
to regret it. 

He knew that he had no reason to doubt her in the 
least. Circumstances had spoken so plainly the fair 
truth of her life and character, that he all the more 
regretted that she had to take him on trust. 

He knew how great the risk would be, in ordinary 


GLENWOOD. 


121 


cases, and he feared that some doubt might trouble her 
gentle heart before she could know him better, and read 
the truth of his imblemished life and manhood. 

All these thoughts were passing through his mind as 
his happy glances rested on Margaret and drank in 
new draughts of joy and gladness. 

After some little time had passed, Margaret rose 
from his side with a smile, and took a seat opposite 
with Mrs. Glenwood, fearing that her happiness might 
be less than theirs. 

Instantly each clasped the hand of the other in 
loving pressure, dropping them out of sight between 
the folds of their garments, while they feasted their 
eyes on the joy-illumined face before them. 

Margaret reveled in the bliss of looking into the 
sunny eyes which were riveted upon her, as they were 
being speeded away to the great city, which would seem 
like a new world to her. 


122 


GLENWOOD. 


CHAPTEK IX. 

BRIDAL TRIP TO NEW YORK^ LOWELL AND BOSTON. 

When they were among the finest mercantile houses, 
Mrs. Glenwood made a purchase of an elegant purse, 
and going to a hank where some of her means were de- 
posited, she filled it with banknotes as a wedding pres- 
ent for Margaret 

“ It seems wrong for me to accept it,” said Margaret. 

“ Xo, my daughter. I have arrived at the age when 
an over-display of dress is not becoming. It detracts 
from one’s good looks, rather than adds to them. This 
is your little dower, for your wardrobe, as you need 
it. It is as thoroughly yours as if it had been willed 
to you.” 

It was some moments before Margaret could recover 
her voice or express her thanks, while the tears that 
filled her eyes told of thje overflowing of her heart. She 
had been wondering how these needs could be met for 
her new position. 

Through the shop windows she constantly saw revela- 
tions of the beautiful. She had stopped to drink in the 
glory of an exquisite picture, when Ralph Glenwood 
took the opportunity of consulting his mother in regard 
to a wedding present for Margaret, proposing the pur- 
chase of jewels. 


GLENWOOD. 


123 


“ iN’o, my son, not that. I adopted her into my heart 
before you proposed to her. She is to have my jewels. 
The pearls first, for they are like her, and that we know 
is the signification of her name. Afterwards, she is to 
have the diamonds, when she becomes older. I am past 
the time when such things give pleasure, except it is a 
pin, or finger rings, telling of your father^s love for 
me.” 

Ralph Glenwood’s gift was a diamond ring and an 
elegant watch and chain. 

“ It is to count the hours of our happiness,” he said 
‘‘ and may God grant that it may never have to record 
a moment when our hearts shall beat less fondly for 
each other than now.” 

“ Love is not love, if it is not enduring,” said Mar- 
garet, as she held the precious gifts in her trembling 
hand, and could not yet realize that they were hers, and 
were tokens of love from her husband. 

The happy days sped on till two weeks had passed 
away, in seeing the many pleasant and wonderful things 
to be seen in the city of New York. 

Ralph Glenwood and Margaret thought they had ex- 
perienced the happiness of a lifetime as the days sped 
by on golden wings, freighted with unspeakable joy and 
gladness. 

Margaret reveled in seeing what art and skill can 
do, as only such a nature can enjoy and appreciate such 
things. She had lived starving for the beautiful, amid 
a barren life, devoid of everything that her fine nature 
craved and hungered for, except the lavish adornment 
of Nature and the grand scenery which had served to 
keep her soul alive, and still hungering for what she 
could not reach nor obtain. 

Mother and son were hourly more and more enrap- 


124 


GLENWOOD. 


tured with her. She developed in the sunshine of love 
and happiness, like some rare, tropical flower, each day 
blooming into more perfect beauty and loveliness. 

Mrs. Glenwood insisted on selecting a goodly share 
of the wedding wardrobe. Margaret was only too glad 
to have the benefit of her taste and judgment, feeling 
distrustful of her own, not knowing the style she was 
expected to appear in at Glenwood. 

Please, mother, let the garments be few and 
simple,” was her request. “ I would not care to have 
too many dresses on hand to get out of fashion. I am 
not hard on such things. Clothing lasts well and keeps 
nicely for me, for a long time.” 

I am glad to see that your judgment is so correct 
and well balanced, my darling, but you must not scrimp 
yourself. Ealph’s purse is sufiiciently well filled, 
though unlimited extravagance might find the bottom 
in time, which is often the case. You have a purse of 
your own to go to, in these matters, and can feel more at 
ease in regard to your purchases and expenditures, so 
enjoy your happiness now that you have it. 

“ While we are hacking around here, a traveling suit 
is the most appropriate, but you must have a wedding 
dress and two or three others to take home with you. 
Two trunks at least must be purchased to take with 
us and contain your wardrobe, but we need not be en- 
cumbered with them till we start for Glenwood.” 

A dress of snowy satin and a pearl gray silk were 
selected, both fitting exquisitely the perfect figure. 
Two satins of a rich, dark color, and two of worsted 
material were deemed necessary by Mrs. Glenwood, and 
when Margaret protested, the reply was: 

ihro, my daughter, you cannot do with less. Even 
that supply seems small. You have the money to spare. 


GLENWOOD. 


125 


and this is the one event of your life. I wish to have 
the meddlesome part of the world understand that you 
have enough, and there is no way to show it, in this case, 
except in your dress, since you are a stranger to them 
all.” A bride-like hat and a suitable wrap were pur- 
chased to complete the outfit. 

A trip to Lowell was proposed, and thence to Boston, 
and immediately carried into effect. 

When they had been shown through one of the large 
mills in Lowell, a tall figure bent down to Margaret 
with the bearded face close to hers and asked gravely 
with no hint of a smile: 

“ Shall I leave you here, now that the promise is 
fulfilled of seeing you safely at Lowell ? ” 

Margaret looked into the laughing blue eyes as she 
replied, “ Yes, I want to earn another ten dollars be- 
sides the ten my stepmother so willingly lent me, which 
I have in my possession, minus the stage fare. I want 
to buy thirty-five or forty yards of calico and the same 
amount of strong gingham and coarse sheeting, and 
some flannel to send her, for herself and for the chil- 
dren.” 

They were standing in the inside hallway of the mill, 
while Mrs. Glenwood stopped to ask a few questions of 
the overseer, in regard to strikes and the damaging 
effects which were reported of them in regard to the 
business of the country. 

‘‘ You can earn the money by kissing me at fifty 
cents apiece,” was the reply, and do it now, at Lowell, 
till the amount is made up. Isn’t that a satisfactory 
proposition ? ” 

Margaret gave him a pinch, and then for fear she 
had hurt him, she kissed the bearded lips, yet he looked 
as if both operations pleased him immensely. 


126 


GLENWOOD. 


“ I am in earnest,” said Margaret. “ I shall wish to 
send all the things I have specified, every year, till the 
children are grown up and can earn something for their 
mother and for themselves. I do not wish to have them 
suffer for want of clothing as my brothers did, after 
mother died. Most of the time I was painfully con- 
scious of an insufficiency for myself. 

“ Poor darling,” was the tender response. His eyes 
were as sad now as they were merry but a moment be- 
fore. 

“ I shall want to go back to Lowell every year to 
earn that amount, and have the things ready to send 
before Thanksgiving. There will never be anything 
else to give thanks for, there, unless there is a radical 
change in everything.” 

“ Margaret, you pain me. It looks as though you 
held the shadow of a thought that I might object to your 
sending that small amount to the home that gave me 
life’s greatest treasure, my darling and my wife. You 
know that the law of marriage gives my possessions to 
you. What is mine, is yours. We are no more twain, 
but one flesh. That is the dearest thought of all. So 
take your own, my darling, and make your purchases, 
and add as much more to the packages as you wish,” he 
said, as he handed her a fifty-dollar note. 

Margaret protested against it, but it was of no use. 
To prevent her from putting it into his hands again, 
he stood bolt upright, with those appendages thrust deep 
into his pockets, smiling at her perplexity, as he said 
with a sober face: 

“ There is a slight discount on that, madam, and in 
this case, I must exact payment at once.” 

Margaret knew his meaning, and as he bent down 
his stately head she gave the kiss which was instantly 


GLENWOOD. 


127 


returned, as if not worth the keeping; yet the smiling 
and happy faces showed it to be eminently satisfactory 
to both parties. 

I do not think that you undertsand my meaning 
at all,” said Margaret. “ I wanted to give these things 
out of my own work, self-denial or sacrifices, and I can 
do it yet, in some way.” 

“ Then you mean it would be a sacrifice to make up 
the amount in the way I suggested, do you ? ” 

“ You are a tease,” was the laughing reply. “ I 
knew you were, from the first, by an occasional twinkle 
that came into your eyes.” 

“ I used to be, when a boy, so !Aunt Dinah says, but 
I supposed I had put away childish things.” 

Mrs. Glenwood appeared, and they started at once for 
Boston. It was to be only a flying trip, to be repeated 
again afterwards. 

Mrs. Glenwod was anxious to get home. She had a 
project in her mind, and could not be expected to wait 
very long before carrying it into effect. She had 
planned a wedding party at Glenwood. She was so 
filled with it, it often cropped out into words, showing 
her happiness, even in the thought of what she intended 
to do. 

“ What is the use, mother ? ” asked her son. Why 
the need of going to all that work and trouble, tiring 
yourself out for nothing? We are happy enough as it 
is. I will see you safely home, and then Margaret and 
I will fly off on a short trip to Niagara Falls, if you 
think best.” 

“ That is just what I wish you to do. Dinah and I 
can then have full sway and get up the party, ready for 
your return.” 


128 


GLENWOOD. 


What a mother ! ” was the laughing remark of the 
happy bridegroom. 

“ I cannot be coaxed out of that idea. We must have 
a wedding entertainment. I had but one child to get 
married, and now that the event has transpired, just to 
my liking, I must show my appreciation in a plain, 
pleasant homelike party. You must hurry home again. 
It is almost November. The weather may turn off too 
cold and stormy, to make it safe or pleasant for either 
of you. You may take cold and be ill.” 

“ We will not risk life or health for pleasure, pre- 
cious mother, so set your heart at rest about that. We 
will not cause you needless anxiety.” 

They took but a passing glance at the historic city 
of Boston, with its steady habits and crooked ways. 
The most noted points were briefly visited and greatly 
enjoyed. Much of it could never lose interest, even if 
they saw it every day of their lives. Many things that 
they desired to see, were left with regret, for want of 
time, as they took the cars for one of the huge palace 
steamers that ply Long Island Sound to New York, and 
from thence, the train for home, by a different and 
nearer route than the stage line they had taken to the 
city, for Mrs. Glenwood to see the country through 
which they passed, but Ralph Glenwood was sure that 
it was solely to find Margaret, crying over going to 
Lowell. 


GLENWOOD. 


129 


CHAPTER X. 

MAEGAEET SEES HEE NEW HOME. DINAH DEIVES PETE 
INTO WOEK. 

Maegaeet was all anxiety to see her new home. 
When they arrived, her heart bounded with joy at the 
sight of Glenwood, embowered in trees, whose grand 
proportions showed the lapse of many years since they 
were planted. Some of them were monarchs of the 
forests before Glenwood existed. She saw landscape 
gardening in its highest perfection at close range for 
the first time in her life, with the artistic arrangement 
of trees and shrubbery and sloping lawn, making it a 
living picture of beauty, in the lovely commingling of 
art and nature. 

The grand old trees stretched out their protecting 
arms as if to ward off all ill from the dear home they 
had sheltered so long. Everywhere were marks of re- 
fined and cultured taste, as well as ample means. 

The house was spacious and imposing. The tall col- 
umns of the piazza were wreathed with woodbine and 
ivy, while wisterias and trumpet vines clambered over 
it and up the sides of the house, ambitiously clinging 
to the lightning rod, as if wondering how it could bo 
intended for any other purpose. Others gracefully hung 
over the balconies, and peeped into the windows of the 


130 


GLENWOOD. 


cupola and examined the roof with their long, creep- 
ing fingers, trying to measure distances in many crooked 
and curving directions. Climbing roses were almost 
everywhere, adding their tribute of adornment to Glen- 
wood, while the white and purple clematis kept them 
company. Vines were trained over the basement and 
between the windows, and clambered over pretty trel- 
lises, and cedar poles, and descended again, in loose, 
flowing sprays nearly to the ground, waving like ban- 
ners in the wind, and making a bewildering shower 
of beauty at the time of blossoming. 

While Ralph Glenwood and his mother welcomed 
Margaret home, her heart was full, almost to bursting, 
as she glanced around at the scene of rare loveliness 
spread out before her. Her eyes were swimming in 
tears of joy, that she struggled to repress, but failing 
in that, she tried to conceal her face with her veil, as 
they ascended the broad steps of the veranda, while 
Ralph Glenwood talked to her, till Dinah answered the 
bell. 

The good soul admitted them with many exclama- 
tions of delight at their safe return. They had over- 
stayed their time. The faithful creature had felt anx- 
ious, in spite of letters that told of their safety, and the 
probable time of their return. 

Mrs. Glenwood and Margaret entered the parlor, 
while Ralph Glenwood stepped to the hatrack in the 
hall to divest himself of his light overcoat and hat. 
Dinah, whose curiosity could not be held in check, lin- 
gered to ask what she considered a very important ques- 
tion. 

“ Who dat company, Marser Ralph ? ” 

“ My wife, whom I married nearly three weeks ago.” 

“ Hasn’t yer got over dat nonsense yet, ob tryin’ ter 


GLENWOOD. 


131 


pull de wool ober dese ole eyes, like you did when you 
was a boy? I fought you’d outgrowed dat trick, jist 
ter get me to pay it back wid de broomstick.” 

He only laughed in an amused way, as he asked to 
have Pete tell Dan to harness the blacks to the double 

carriage to drive to the station at B 

Suthin’ is up, dat’s a fac’,” muttered the good soul 
as she hastened to do his bidding. “ I nebber seed him 
wid dat kind ob face on him, in all my born days. It 
looks like it had been dipped in sunshine. De missis 
looks mighty pleased too, so I ’spec’s suflBn’ has hap- 
pened, arter all, an’ mebby he didn’t say no joke ’bout 
dat bein’ his wife.” 

Mrs. Glenwood met Dinah in the hall, and told her 
they were to make preparations for a wedding party, 
and that Ealph and his bride were going for a week’s 
stay at Hiagara Falls, and would not return till the 
night of the party. 

Lors a massy, bless us ! What dat mean ! I done 
thought he would nebber git married, nohow! My! 
Oh, my ! ” 

The old soul was nearly wild with astonishment and 
joy. Then she set herself the task of trying to find an 
excuse to see the bride. After she had accomplished it, 
and Margaret had spoken kindly to her, Dinah could 
not find words enough to use in extravagant praise of 
Margaret’s beauty. 

When you sees her, Mr. Pete, den you’ll know why 
Marser Ralph waited all dis time afore he got mar- 
ried,” and, she bustled around and tried to find some- 
thing to do, after everything was already done, long 
before. 

Mrs. Glenwood accompanied the newly wedded pair 
to the station. Dinah threw all the old shoes she could 


132 


GLENWOOD. 


find after the carriage for good luck. She even stripped 
the new slippers from her own feet that she had put 
on, when she entered the parlor to see Margaret. Pete, 
imitating her example, untied the skiffs that covered 
his huge pedal extremities, and danced till he kicked 
them off to lie with the others, so as to make good luck 
doubly sure. 

Dinah laughed till she had to hold her sides, and 
scolded Pete for not “ ’havin’ hisself like other folks.” 

After the shoes had lain as long as she thought need- 
ful to insure good luck to the married couple, she sent 
Pete to gather them up. She put on her slippers with 
three good wishes in each, for the bridegroom and bride, 
and ordered Pete to do the same, in putting on his own 
enormous footgear. 

‘‘ Dis is a purty how-de-do,” soliloquized Dinah, as 
she flew around as full of business as a Governor Gen- 
eral. “ I nebber ’spected nuffin’ like dis goin’ off to get 
married, and nuffin’ ’pared for it. I guess dese ole 
hands has got ter fly now. 

See here, Mr. Pete. I wants yer ter understan’ dat 
when I sen’s yer fer kin’luns ter build a fire, I ain’t 
gAvine ter put up wid yer bringin’ in no mo’ dan you 
kin pile on yer fum nail.” 

Does yer want me ter break my back bringin’ in 
wood ? If I does, what is I good fer, den ? ” asked Pete 
in pretended astonishment. 

“ What is yer good fer, anyhow ? Dat’s what I 
ain’t foun’ out yet. You arter dim’ up the chimbly an’ 
stay dar. ’Tain’t no blacker den you is.” 

“ I’d be af eared ob witches. Dey might put a spell 
on me, so I couldn’t get out again. What den ? ” 

“ Den I would hab some peace, dat’s all.” 

Dinah’s eyes followed Pete, as he started to feed the 


GLENWOOD. 


133 


pigs, whistling as he went. ^^Dat lazy gump hain’t 
^vuff poun’ fer poun’, as much as sawdust,” she said, as 
he turned out of sight, past the corner of the house. 

But he’s got ter work now, or I’ll break ehery hone in 
his lazy skin. I hates a lazy nigger, and it’s well dat I 
has de feedin’ of dis one, fur if he don’t stir hisself 
libly, I won’t gib him so much as de crumbs dat falls 
from de marser’s table, dat I won’t. It do beat all, 
how lazy a boy kin git, dat’s ’lowed ter lay roun’ in de 
house, doin’ little or nuffin’, ’cept seein’ what’s goin’ on 
in the eatin’ line. Lazy folks is great fer dat, and 
dars nuflSn’ I ’spize like laziness.” 

She bustled around like a tempest, in her pleased 
excitement, hardly knowing what to begin at, first. 
She knew her power in the line of work, and loved 
to exercise it in showing her skill and workmanship. 
She felt great pride and pleasure in her wonderful abil- 
ity in the housekeeping line. Her courage and ambi- 
tion were equal to any emergency, and she was always 
ready to grapple with whatever came to hand. The 
more she had to do, the more she exulted in it, and the 
more she felt her usefulness. Like a good general, she 
gloried in her work and her achievements. 

The household at Glenwood fully appreciated her. 
She was looked upon as an institution of home comfort 
that could not be dispensed with. 

She belonged to the good old stock, fast passing away, 
and giving place to others of less worth, with less sta- 
bility of character. 

‘‘ Wall, dis hain’t gwine to do,” she said anxiously, 
as she peered out of the window with her bright eyes 
searching for Pete, who often reminded her of the 
proverb, “ As vinegar to the teeth and smoke to the 
eyes, so is the sluggard to him that sends him.” 


134 


GLENWOOD. 


I wonder if it’s gwine ter take ter Christmas ter 
feed dem pigs. Majbe he ’spects me ter come out and 
help him. If he does, I don’t make it so pleasant dat 
he wants me ter come offin. If he ain’t here purtj 
quick, I’ll be out dar, wid de broomstick. He allers 
fin’s out what dat means, widout words. Mos’ boys 
can’t be brought up widout it, specially dis low trash. 
Dey needs it more’n dey needs wittles. Talk ain’t ob 
no kin’ ob use, and folks fin’ it out so, in de long run. 
It don’t work, nohow ! 

“ Missy Glenwood and Marser Ralph hab been ter 
easy wid dat lazy gump. He is wurs dan de plagues 
ob Egypt. Course, I hab nebber seed dem, but I hab 
been bodered wid him, till I’se wor’d out. Dar is nufiln’ 
like good hard thumps to make ’em know what dey is 
made fur, but I’se gwinter put him trou’, and show him 
dat wittles don’t come widout work.” 

She turned from the window and gathered house- 
cloths, scrub-broom and scrub-brush, ready to do battle 
in the garret, and so go through the house. 

What is dis fur ? ” asked Pete, when he arrived on 
the scene of action and found he was needed. 

You march in de garret wid dat pail ob water, 
dat’s all,” and Dinah preceded him with no small strides 
through the hall and up the stairs. 

“ What if dey is married ? Dey hain’t gwine ter 
keep house in de garret, is dey ? ” 

Shut up yer blab. It’s ’nough ter wear de bricks 
out’n de chimbly. ’Tain’t no wonder yer po’ ma died 
afore her time. She couldn’t stan’ it but ten years, 
affer you was bawn, an’ I don’t spec’s I kin stan’ it dat 
long, unless you is struck dumb. You ain’t got no more 
feelin’ dan a tombstun, or you wouldn’t stan’ wid dat 


GLENWOOD. 135 

kin’ ob a face on you, doin’ nuffin’ an’ de weddin’ party 
cornin’ on.” 

Peter laughed good naturedly, and Dinah hit him a 
slap that made him scratch his head and rub his ear 
more than there was any need of. 

“ You jist h’ist dat pail ob water along here, libly,” 
and she hit him another slap, that came near being dis- 
astrous to the pail of water he was carrying. 

“ I don’t see no use ob cleanin’ so much,” said Pete, 
whose boyish notions would have been well satisfied 
without it. 

“ Yer don’t ’spec’ dat we is gwine to let any one come 
in dis house an’ fin’ it dirty, does yer ? ” asked Dinah, 
contemptuously. “ You jist pitch inter dat scrubbin’, 
while I sweeps and dusts, or I’ll show yer how stars 
looks in de daytime.” 

“ Dar ain’t no spec’ ob dirt here,” said Pete, “ and it 
’tain’t no use, no ways.” 

“ I didn’t ’spec’ dar was any dirt. Dat ain’t my style 
ob housekeepin’, but it wants ter be fresh an’ sweet, and 
dat’s no great work ter do, if you ain’t ter lazy. I’ll 
settle yer, if dar ain’t less blab and mo’ work. Missy 
Glenwood will come back putty quick, an’ den what will 
she say? A nice show ob work fur bofe ob us! I 
hain’t gwine ter do de work no mo’, fur you an’ me 
too ; an’ den cook yer wittles and wash yer close. Yer 
has got ter take yer part, hereaffer, so yer jist min’ dat, 
an’ lif’ your end ob ebery log, yersef’.” 

At last, after much talk and hard pressure, the ener- 
getic soul got Pete under way, like a steam engine, 
under a full head of steam. 

The more he worked the better he felt, after the crust 
of laziness was broken through, and he got into the 
merits of the cause. 


136 


GLENWOOD. 


Dinah’s ambition was sometimes infectious ; and 
when Pete caught the spirit, he was a power not to be 
despised, provided the spirit moved him in the right 
direction. Dinah drove him into the traces, and made 
him pull, knowing that idle, lazy habits never grow 
less by indulgence, and soon become a part of character, 
and at last swell the ranks of pauperism and crime 
Pete was a strong boy of fourteen, whom Mrs. Glen- 
wood had taken when he was a homeless and friendless 
boy of ten years. His mother was a friend of Dinah’s, 
who pitied the boy whom the dying mother had left 
as a legacy to the world; and no one was particularly 
glad of it, and no one wanted him. Dinah asked a 
place for him at Glenwood, and was not disappointed 
in the hope she had cherished of having him taken un- 
der her care, and provided with a home. She promised 
to give him all necessary training. He was made more 
or less useful in many ways, in and around the house, 
and sometimes on the farm, when not in school there 
was nothing else to do; although he much preferred to 
be in the kitchen. He would rather eat than work, but 
Dinah controlled such matters within the bounds of 
reason, and would not allow him to gratify his greedi- 
ness to the extent of his wishes. She detested the laz- 
iness and stupidity that were sure to come of it. She 
hated gluttony, as badly as she loathed drunkenness, 
and knew that a dyspeptic’s stomach or a damaged con- 
stitution would be the result in after years. 

Mos’ young wives likes ter see de cradle der husban’ 
was rocked in,” said Dinah. Dis one rocked all Missy 
Glenwoods’ chilluns. I’ll wash it off, an’ you can polish 
it wid dis ’iled rag, an’ not spare de elbow grease. 
Duz yer hear dat, Mr. Pete ? ” 

“ Course I duz ; but what’s de use meddlin’ wid dat, 


GLENWOOD. 


137 


anymo’ dan’ if it was a las’ years’s bird’s nes’. An ole 
cradle ain’t nuffin’, ’cept it might do fur kin’lum wood.” 

“ I spoze dar was some great mistake made, when 
you wasn’t named Solomon,” replied Dinah, as she 
rubbed the cradle vigorously, to show how it was to be 
done. “ Mebby de cradle hain’t no great, but de man is, 
dat was rocked in it; I kin tell de young missis dat 
much, if she hain’t foun’ it out yit. She will unurstan’ 
some time dat Marser Ralph Glenwood is sumpin’ ter 
be proud ob.” 

“ If he wasn’t your chile, what’s de use ob bein’ 
proud ob him, I’d like ter know ? ” was the sage reply 
of Pete, who was always ready with an answer, no mat- 
ter how wide of the mark it might be. 

Dinah did not notice the question so ably expressed. 
She was with the past, when she had rocked the children 
in their infancy, and two of them were done with life, 
while the years went on without them. It seemed to 
her as if it were but yesterday when they were all 
children, and Judge Glenwood was laying plans for 
their future. 

Pete began polishing the cradle, and Dinah dropped 
the glass of memory, and resumed her subject, for the 
edification of Pete. “ De greates’ men, doan allers 
heb de fines’ cradles, an’ folks nebber axes a man what 
kin’ ob cradle he was rocked in. Dey sees de man, an’ 
dat’s enough. Dis is only cherry, or ’hogony, I don’t 
know which. ’Tain’t cherry, nudder. Doan yer see 
dem streaky, dark splotches in it? Dat shows ’hogony. 
Cherry doan hab dat, not if I knows one kin’ ob wood 
from tudder. 

“ You go an’ git dat sweet ile, on de low shelf ob d© 
small cupboard, an’ I’ll gib it a little dab ob dat, ter 


138 


GLENWOOD. 


make it shine,” was the order to Pete. ** An’ it’ll polish 
up mos’ like a new cradle. 

“ Come back here, you shan’t go, nudder ! You’ll 
turn eberyting tudder side up, an’ make mo’ work ’n 
yer wu£F,” and she rushed away, like an express train 
behind time, while Pete amused himself by what he 
called singing, though it was nothing that was ever ex- 
pressed by note, and had not a hint in it, of harmony 
or melody. It was a strange contortion of sounds, in 
a high key, and no matter what tune he tried to sing, 
it came out all the same. 'No one would ever suppose 
that such a medley, or contortion of sounds could be 
dignified by the name of singing. His braying was 
always a horror to Aunt Dinah, who never lost any time 
in shutting off that safety-valve for his exuberant spirits. 

See here, Mr. Pete, you jist use dat steam ter work 
yer elbows wid, fur I’se not gwine ter hear dat howlin’. 
I won’t put up wid it, nohow.” 

“ What’s de reason I hain’t nebber ’lowed ter sing ? ” 
grumbled Pete. “ You sings mos’ ob de time when I 
hain’t ’roun’.” 

“ You kin do jis’ so too. You kin sing when I hain’t 
punished wid all dat racket. It’s ’nough ter set teef on 
edge. I drudder hear cats howl, even if dey doez wake 
me out ob sleep, but if I had made de cats, I wouldn’t 
gibbed dem dat style ob voice. I changes de voice ob 
ourn, wid de broomstick, when I hears it. I means ter 
do jist so wid you.” 

“ ’Tain’t no use ter waste time on dis cradle,” said 
the sable gentleman, changing the subject. “ ’Tain’t 
no better, if chilluns has been rocked in. it, I done 
’spec’s.” 

“ Dat’s all you know; but nobody eber ’spec’s ter 


GLENWOOD. 


139 


hear any sense out’n your great mouf. I’se catched 
Miss’y Glenwood cryin’ ober dis cradle many times.” 

What for ? ” asked thick-headed Pete, as he rubbed 
and polished, as if life depended on it. 

“ Go long -wid your blab. You done know nufBn’, 
anyways,” said Dinah, feeling that fine sentiment was 
lost on such a specimen. 

“ I spoze I was rocked on a chip,” said Pete, with a 
side glance at Dinah. “ Nobody will min’ dat, when 
dey sees how great I is, affer I is growed up.” 

He cast sly glances at Dinah, and she cast the scrub- 
brush at him, and sent him off into roars of laughter, 
rolling and wallowing on the floor, till she straightened 
him out with the broomstick, and got him at work 
again, but it did not last long. His great eyes kept 
watching the good soul, who with surprising dexterity 
was arranging in order the heterogeneous mass which 
usually collects in a large garret, when a house has been 
occupied by the same family for a number of years. 

Many things have stories to tell, and are sacred with 
the memory of past joys and sorrows, but Pete thought 
nothing of all this. He only made the proposition to 
himself of taking a rest in the cradle, and proceeded to 
wedge himself in, with his lower extremities streaming 
out, far beyond the little receptacle of infancy. He 
went to rocking himself, and snoring to attract Dinah’s 
attention. He succeeded sooner than he thought, and 
seemed well pleased with her notice. She went for 
the dust-brush, but before she reached him, he was out, 
wide awake, fully rested, and as hard at work as ever, 
saying that, “ He would make dat cradle so smood dat 
a fly would slip up on it. It would teach ’em ter let it 
alone, an’ not spile de shine he was gibben it, wid such 


140 


GLENWOOD. 


hard work an^ so much trouble; not bein’ ’lowed ter 
sing, ter make it easier.” 

Dinah’s quick ear caught the sound of carriage 
wheels on the drive through the lawn and up to the 
door, and knew that Mrs. Glenwood had arrived; so 
the brush was dropped before Pete got the benefit of 
it. Her feet fairly flew to open the door for the mis- 
tress of the mansion, and to hear the programme for the 
party which was to be, and Pete was glad, so that he 
could give his aid, and see and hear a great deal at the 
same time. 

He finished the cradle, and made a creditable piece 
of work, and then he scrubbed down the stairs, with a 
laudable desire to win Dinah’s favor. He declared 
himself an artist at such jobs, ’specially when she 
didn’t plague him wid so much talk about nuffin’.” 

He was as much delighted at the prospect of a wed- 
ding party as Dinah could possibly be. He smelt the 
good things afar off, with as keen a scent as that of 
a fox hound, and to him, the pleasure of assisting in 
such affairs, was next to the pleasure of sharing in 
them, after others were done. It made him feel that 
he was of some importance in the household, to see 
that he was trusted and relied on, at such times. He 
knew that if he was not trusty, he would not be allowed 
in the house at all ; and that knowledge helped to fortify 
him against temptation, and aided his moral nature in 
fighting down the selfish propensities. 

“ We have but six days to get ready for it all,” said 
Mrs. Glenwood, after she came from the train that had 
borne away her treasures, to be returned to her before 
many days. A mother’s prayers and blessing went 
with them in their rapid journey, while their happy 
hearts were beating in the joyful unison of wedded love ; 


GLENWOOD. 


141 


and though the leaves were falling fast, earth had never 
looked to them as beautiful as then. They were not 
selfish in their happiness. It pained them to see the 
widowed mother return alone, though they knew she had 
much to occupy her thoughts which would lessen loneli- 
ness. Her gentle heart was glad and rejoiced in the 
new-found happiness that had come so unexpectedly to 
them all, and was far more perfect than they had ever 
anticipated. 

Many invitations were sent out for the party at Glen- 
wood. Preparations went on to successful completion, 
as deft hands worked diligently in the pleasant task of 
preparing the wedding entertainment. 


142 


GLENWOOD. 


CHAPTER XL 

MAEGAEET AND HEE HUSBAND AT NIAGAEA FALLS. 

Ode travelers listened to the thunder of Niagara, 
and saw the grandeur of its mighty waters, and stood 
arm in arm, forgetful of life’s joys and sorrows, while 
gazing at that wonderful masterpiece of the handiwork 
of the Creator. 

Margaret was spellbound, and awed to tears — her 
chest heaving with the intensity of emotion that could 
find no utterance. Never before had she felt the 
majesty of Omnipotence as she did there. Her heart 
seemed bursting with worshipful reverence for Him 
whose voice is forever speaking in the thunder of those 
rushing waters. 

They both felt as did the Psalmist : “ What is man 
that thou art mindful of him ? ” 

They never wearied of seeing and listening; and 
finally, having turned themselves away for the last 
time, they still cast many backward glances, to view 
again and again, the never-to-be-forgotten scene that so 
many generations have looked upon, and have passed 
away, while its grandeur and beauty remain for gen- 
erations yet to be. They felt it were well worth a life- 
time of toil and care, to be permitted to look, even once, 
upon such a scene. 

Margaret noticed, in her walks, the interest her hue- 


GLENWOOD. 


143 


band took in rocks and stones, and the formation of the 
hills and plains; examining them with interest and 
pleasure which was new to her. On inquiry, she found 
that he read stones as if they were books. As he stood 
poising two or three in his hand, he told her that he 
hoped soon to show her his cabinet of specimens, gath- 
ered from different states of the Union, where he had 
traveled with his mother, after his brother died. He 
had many also which he had gathered in the different 
countries of Elirope, where they had spent nearly two 
years to recruit her failing health, after the third mem- 
ber of the family was gone, leaving only himself and 
his mother. 

“ Our noble Frederick was buried only two years 
after my father died. The sudden blow nearly killed 
my mother. 

The physicians said there was no hope but in change 
of scene. He ordered us to travel, and to keep going 
from place to place, to distract her thoughts and take 
them somewhat from her sorrow, and keep at it, till 
she longed for rest at home again. We went from one 
place of interest to another, for three years — one in 
our own country, and two in foreign lands, as she could 
bear it. After a long time, her health improved, and 
she began to sigh for home, and our travels ended. 

“ I found that I had much time for study and in- 
vestigation in those years of journeying. I wanted to go 
further into geology, botany and entomology — in fact, 
all the branches of natural history, were studies I par- 
ticularly delighted in. I could study them on the wing, 
and find new fields of investigation and of thought. 
We were not on the go all the time. Mother was not 
able to bear it. We spent one winter in the south of 
France, and another in Italy. 


144 


GLENWOOD. 


I thought that I was quite advanced in learning 
when I was graduated at the head of my class in col- 
lege. I had studied hard, and meant to do well, and be 
an honor to my name. I found I was not so great a 
scholar after all, though I realized, even then, that 
there was more to learn. The more advanced I be- 
came, the less pride I felt in what I already knew, as I 
saw vast fields of knowledge yet unexplored, that a life- 
time could not compass. 

‘‘ The studies which were more agreeable to my 
tastes, in the beginning, had to be laid aside for a three 
years’ course of the study of law. After Frederick 
died, and my hopes of following the profession I had 
chosen had to be given up, I went on with other studies 
and researches, as I had opportunity. When abroad, I 
devoted considerable time to make myself more thor- 
oughly acquainted with the languages I had previously 
studied, adding Italian, which was new to me. I had 
studied French, Spanish and German with Frederick 
in our boyhood, under native teachers; but when I 
visited those countries, I saw that I had more to learn 
before I could claim proficiency. I was desirous of 
improving as much as possible while I had the oppor- 
tunity of acquiring the native accent. 

“ When we returned to Glenwood, I found that I 
could not give up study, so I have kept at it ever since. 
I have used the spare time I have had, including even- 
ings, making it both pleasurable and profitable, as the 
mind needs food, as well as the body. There has been 
but little to hinder me, though I would not neglect 
mother. A portion of the time has been devoted to 
reading and conversation, when we have not had com- 
pany, and the remainder to arts and sciences, or what- 
ever I felt the most inclination to study. My re- 


GLENWOOD. 


145 


searches in literature have usually been accomplished 
by reading aloud, till I became familiar with whatever 
subject I had taken up, whether ancient or modern. 
Mother has been greatly interested, and has enjoyed it 
all, as I have.” 

Margaret had been an eager and earnest listener; 
and it seemed to her that her love and admiration in- 
creased with every word he uttered, if that were possi- 
ble. Her heart exulted with greater pride in him ; and 
in the happy thought that he was all her own, bound 
to her in the sacred ties that made her bone of his bone, 
and flesh of his flesh. 

‘‘ Margaret, my pearl ! Have I wearied you, in 
opening the book of my life, and reading to you some 
of the chapters, or pages, which I thought might inter- 
est you the most ? Your eyes were riveted on me, as if 
you had no better opinion of my pursuits and acquire- 
ments than a certain elderly farmer, whom I once heard 
expressing himself in regard to me.” 

I was delighted instead of wearied. I am now anx- 
ious to hear the farmer’s opinion, and see if I share 
it.” 

“ I overheard the conversation a short time before 
I went traveling with mother, and have thought of it 
many times, and often since then. 

“ He said it was a blamed pity ter see a likely young 
feller gone clean out of his wits arter weeds, bugs, an’ 
stuns, an’ all sich good-for-nuthin’ foolery. 

“ He guessed if I had been plagued with such pesky 
things as much as he had, I wouldn’t be running arter 
’em dreadful much. If he could have his way, every 
hooter on ’em would be banished from the face of the 
earth dreadful quick. He said folks pitied that mother 
of hisin ifur losin’ the rest of her children, an’ having 


146 


GLENWOOD. 


this one turn out worsen nothin’, foolin’ his brains 
away in shaller nonsense, showin’ that the inside of his 
head was clean gone entirely, or his mind wouldn’t run 
on sich things. It all comes of her sendin’ him ter 
college, where lots of likely fellers git ruined, an’ she 
oughter knowed better; fer if she could see, as he had, 
and as everybody else that had brains, that it was the 
everlastin’ ruin an’ destruction of their senses, an’ 
none on ’em ever took ter any airthly or human ways, 
or idees again, an’ they never do no work. 

“ ‘ You’ve hit the nail right on the head,’ said the old 
gentleman he was talking with. * They do say that lots 
o’ people dies an’ leaves thousand on thousand o’ dol- 
lars fur sich consarns, when they arter burn ’em down 
afore they spoil any more young fellers ; ’ and they 
shook their heads ruefully over my wreck and ruin.” 

Margaret laughed mirthfully, but did not share in 
their sentiments and opinions. 

“ ‘ Where ignorance is bliss it is folly to be wise,’ ” 
she said, in the language of some one else. “ I was 
thinking of all your learning, and feeling how insignifi- 
cant mine must appear to you, and how grand it must 
be to learn all that you have learned. I have only 
studied French and German, with some insight into 
Greek and Latin, under Mr. Alverton’s tutorship. I 
am still studying them, when I have spare time, or 
even spare moments. I have done better in botany, 
and some other minor studies, but it seems miserably 
small and meagre, with all else that I wanted to learn, 
but I have done the best I could. 

“ The Minister and his wife called me an advanced 
scholar, but I could not be satisfied with my progress, 
nor could I be tolerant with myself, in any way.” 

^‘My poor darling,” said Ralph Glenwood, with 



“ Margaret laughed mirthfully 








U^vp i • g> T ,. 

. _:v-^ > 

mm ^ ^ * 

f^c- •LT. - , 

•,V ' ■ 


v t',/' 



GLENWOOD. 


147 


much tenderness, “ you’ve done grandly and nobly un- 
der great difficulties. Your knowledge far outweighs 
mine, and I am proud of it. 

You have learned faith, patience and charity, and 
are learned in the lore of Heaven, where I am igno- 
rant. I will gladly sit at your feet, and learn of you, as 
Mary sat at the feet of the Divine Master — hoping that 
you may in time lead me to Him, that we may walk 
hand in hand to the Celestial City. 

“ I am years older than you, my pearl. I should 
feel very much ashamed, if I had not used some of 
that time for self-improvement, since I have had abun- 
dant opportunity for it. If you wish to study more, 
I will be your happy teacher. Your twenty years have 
done surprisingly well. I am more than content with 
your progress.” 

Margaret spoke her thanks with her face aglow with 
happiness. The pearly tears on her lashes did not de- 
tract from the splendor of her eyes, but her thoughts 
were of something else. 

“ Did you see the elderly farmer after your return 
from foreign lands ? If so, did he alter his opinion of 
your worth, or worthlessness ? ” 

“ Ho, my darling. He had done with picking 
stones, and fighting bugs and weeds. The earth he had 
so long and successfully tilled, had gathered him to her 
bosom, and I was sorry for it. I wished to learn of 
him some of the homely, but trite wisdom of everyday 
life ; but the opportunity had passed by. 

I am sure that his criticism did me good in the 
end. I at least looked closer into my own heart, and 
was more careful to shun the appearance of evil. I did 
not wish my mother to have the credit of having an 
idiot son, ‘ foolin’ his time away in shaller nonsense.’ 


148 


GLENWOOD. 


“ I purchased choice stock in countries I visited, 
and from some countries that I did not visit ; and when 
we returned to Glenwood, I commenced the pursuit 
which has occupied the greater share of my time and 
attention since then. My success has been as fair as I 
could reasonably expect, and I have been satisfied with 
it, since I buried my cherished hopes, when there was 
no chance of their fulfillment. 

“ I believe I have told you all there is to tell of your 
husband. We must be ready to start for ^ Home, Sweet 
Home,’ in twenty minutes, so my watch informs me. 
What a faithful little sentinel a good watch is, at its 
post of duty, watching the hours for us all. It is a 
fitting name for such a pretty and dainty piece of 
mechanism, measuring off the time so faithfully, second 
by second, whether we are forgetful or mindful of its 
flight.” 


GLENWOOD. 


149 


CHAPTER XIL 

maegaeet’s story while resting at a wayside 

STATION. 

Ralph Glenwood and Margaret made their stay 
at Niagara Falls as long as they felt it possible, and 
have sufficient time to arrive home at the appointed 
hour, making allowance for any delay that might occur. 
Punctuality was one of the ruling traits of his charac- 
ter. He was particularly careful to avoid delay or 
making trouble for others. His strict conscientious- 
ness would not allow him to be otherwise than punc- 
tual; and more especially where his mother was con- 
cerned, as he wished to save her needless anxiety in 
regard to his safety in his absence. He knew that her 
thoughts were with him, and her prayers were for his 
safe return. 

Margaret wondered if all the happiness that filled 
her heart could really be true, as she was rejoicing 
that she had a home to go to. The word had a new 
meaning to her. There was wondrous joy in it, since 
it was set to the music of love, and loving companion- 
ship that was to go with her through life. 

Her husband helped her into the railway coach, 
while the monster locomotive was puffiing out its protest 
for the delay of even a few moments, in its seeming 


150 


GLENWOOD. 


eagerness to be off ; as if glad of the freedom of motion, 
and impatient of the hand that held the throttle to 
check its tearing speed, when need be, or cause it to 
pause, obedient to the will that governed its wonderful 
power, and controlled its mechanism. 

Margaret was almost distrustful of her new joy, lest 
it might be a dream, from which she would awaken to 
the old barren life again, — full of heartache and hun- 
gry longing — asking herself the old question of what 
she should do, and where she should go ? And then she 
would look at the noble face beside her, and at the 
strong, manly figure, and read the reality of it all in 
the blue eyes that looked into hers with loving tender- 
ness. A sense of peace would then steal over her, and 
she would settle down in blissful content, as they were 
speeding towards Glenwood, and the fond mother who 
awaited them with watchful anxiety. 

When Ralph Glenwood found they were nearing 
home too soon, they stopped over for two hours at a 
wayside station, which was a welcome rest, yet they 
were so absorbed in their own happiness, it mattered 
little where they were, provided they were in no one’s 
way. 

A telegram was sent to Mrs. Glenwood informing 
her of their safety, and where they were stopping, and 
telling her that they would start on the home-train, 
and be there at five o’clock, and Dan must meet them 
at the station. 

“ Do you know, my darling, that you will be the ob- 
ject of much criticism ? ” said the happy bridegroom. 
“ It was the supposition of people that I would marry 
some one near home, if I ever married at all.” 

“ I expect the criticism,” was the calm and smiling 
reply. 


GLENWOOD. 151 

I am glad that it does not overpower you with fear 
or dread.” 

Margaret smiled at the expression of the handsome 
face beside her, as she replied with seeming unconcern 
and disregard of the matter : 

“ I should be foolish to mind their criticism, so long 
as I have your love and mother’s to rely on. In com- 
parison with that, the rest of the world is of small 
weight to me, in such an affair as this. I am painfully 
sensitive, but I try to use reason, and to cultivate a 
kindly spirit towards all; and so long as I try to do 
right, criticism cannot affect my happiness very deeply, 
under the present circumstances.” 

“ It pleases me to see that you take such a philo- 
sophical view of the matter, my love; but may I ques- 
tion you a little ? ” 

“ Certainly,” replied Margaret, lifting her finely 
arched brows as if asking questions in advance, and 
wondering what there could be for her to answer. She 
thought she had told all that was worth telling, in her 
narrow and meagre life. 

“ Have you any scruples in regard to dancing ? ” 

As a recreation ? Ho ! As a dissipation, yes ! ” 
was the ready reply. “ It is an exhilarating exercise, 
when not carried to excess. It is the poetry of motion, 
as some one has beautifully expressed it. I know that 
many condemn it unsparingly. Then why not con- 
demn every other earthly enjoyment? And why not 
condemn music, when its every throb is provocative of 
motion ? It has been said, that ‘ music hath charms to 
soothe the savage breast’ It is claimed also, that it has 
an elevating influence on the mind and heart, and who 
does not feel it to be so, if they have any feeling at all. 
Music is also an important part of divine worship. I do 


152 


GLENWOOD. 


not speak for others. If they have conscientious scruples 
against dancing, I certainly would not urge them to 
disregard or cast them aside. Dancing, like a great 
many other things, is capable of being greatly abused, 
and made a cause of physical as well as moral injury. 
So can eating and drinking, as well as sleeping. Glut- 
tony is debasing, and dangerous to life. Too much 
sleep causes sluggishness and stupidity of brain. Too 
much lying down is debilitating, and fosters indolence, 
which the Bible condemns almost as severely as drunk- 
enness; yet the latter vice is so brute-like and degrad- 
ing, it is a marvel to me that the shame and disgrace ac- 
companying it, does not keep every human being from 
touching spirituous liquors. It is evident that most men 
feel the disgrace, or they would not be so free in treat- 
ing one another, which is a low way of drawing others 
into sin. It is not done out of kindness, or they would 
do the same thing in buying food, or clothing, of which 
the drunkard’s family soon stands in need. If men 
value themselves so lightly as to partake of liquid fire, 
for their own destruction, it is but common justice for 
them to do it on their own responsibility, without any 
urging of that kind; and then a man has no one to 
blame for the consequences but himself. 

“ As for dancing, it can be turned into a dissipation ; 
and when it is, I condemn it as severely as any one. It 
is a violent exercise, and needs the controlling power 
of reason, like many other things that are often abused 
by overdoing.” 

“ Your views are very correct according to my way 
of thinking, but can you dance ? ” asked Kalph Glen- 
wood half regretfully, for fear of hurting Margaret’s 
feelings and having her think he expected her to possess 


GLENWOOD. 153 

accomplishments which she had had no opportunity of 
acquiring. 

“ Yes, I can dance, and play the piano and organ, it 
does not matter which. I played the small organ in the 
little church at home. Mrs. Alverton gave me lessons 
in music, thinking it might be of use to me, sometime 
as a teacher. My opportunities for practice have not 
been all that I could wish, though I might have prac- 
ticed more, and was urged to do so, but I did not like to 
annoy Mrs. Alverton with it. I felt that I could do 
something that would be of greater service to her. My 
time was not all my own. I could not be there, when 
there was anything to do at home. I had considerable 
practice last summer, and improved under it, I am 
sure, yet I should not care to play in the presence of 
those who have had everyday opportunities for prac- 
ticing and playing, and have made it a part of the busi- 
ness of life. One must be able to play well, in order 
to confer pleasure on others. It seems cruel to urge 
a new beginner to play who is difl&dent and conscious 
of not playing skillfully. 

“ I was away from home the past summer, for the 
first time in my life, or I should not have had the op- 
portunities I did.” 

“ Will you tell me about it ? ” asked her listener. 

‘‘ If you would care to hear it ; most certainly. I 
was sent for, to be a companion to an invalid lady, who 
was ill with incipient consumption. She was young, 
and had not been married long. She was sent from the 
city for country air, and country food; for walking, 
driving and living out of doors, and using every 
hygienic means for the restoration of health. She was 
under the care of a noted Physician, who believed im- 
plicitly in the restorative power of Nature, under 


154 


GLENWOOD. 


right conditions, instead of medicines. They wished 
me to he her constant companion, to read, drive and 
walk with her, and take care of her, and help her to get 
well. I shrank from going; I dreaded strangers, and 
was distrustftul of my ability to please, but I had been 
recommended, though I knew nothing of the care of 
the sick. Her father urged me so strongly to accept 
the situation, that the leading power at home insisted 
on my complying with the request. 

“ Mrs. Harding’s people were farmers. She was the 
youngest child, brought up too eifeminately for her 
own good. She married and moved to the city, but the 
air did not agree with her — her constitution was too 
feeble.” 

Did she live ? ” was the solicitous inquiry. 

“ Yes, and recovered her health. I loved her, and 
longed for her recovery. I felt that I ought to pay for 
the privileges I enjoyed there, instead of receiving pay. 
It hurt my pride cruelly to take it; or rather have my 
father collect it, as my wages. -The opportunities that 
I had for reading and study were a welcome treat to 
me, though at first, I preferred the hard life at home. 
I did not mind so much the work, but the quarreling 
and confusion, and the barren lack of everything pleas- 
ant or beautiful, made it hard to endure, with my 
pride, and my longing for something better. 

‘‘ Mrs. Harding’s home was a quiet and peaceful one, 
and very pleasant to look upon. It lay amid verdant 
meadows, with a stream of water running near, that 
was sparkling and beautiful, as well as convenient for 
farm and home purposes. It was a great rambling 
farmhouse, surrounded with trees and shrubbery. 
Everything wore an air of prosperity and plenty, which 
was new to me. I never wearied of looking at it. I 


GLENWOOD. 


155 


could see that it came from well timed industry; as 
prosperity usually comes, if it comes at all. I have 
often wondered why one man cannot he as efficient as 
another, in using the means of earning a living. My 
father had a farm, well stocked ; thanks to my mother’s 
efforts. He had good health, plenty of tools to work 
with, and the sunshine and rain for his benefit, the 
same as others; but it never amounted to anything; 
while so many can win the smile of joyous plenty, with 
even less to do with. 

“ Mrs. Harding’s physician ordered her to dance on 
the piazza for exercise, every rainy day when she could 
not go out, but she was to do it with careful moder- 
ation. I used to dance with her, while her mother 
played the piano. Ho day was allowed to go without 
exercise. She was to walk, when she felt able, and ride 
whether she felt able or not. In the selection of books 
to read, I think her gentle and kind heart prompted 
her to have me read such as I liked best, as her tastes 
and mine were very similar. I had much time for 
study, while she rested alone in the afternoon, and in 
the evening, as she was ordered to retire early at night, 
so as to procure all the sleep possible, before midnight. 
She was very strict with herself, and was careful to 
use her best efforts to get well, as her friends and 
physician wished her to. 

I should not have felt that I had the right to use 
the time in study, if I could have found anything else 
to do. I knew that my time was theirs, but they had a 
good woman in the house, who had a permanent home 
with them. Mrs. Harding’s mother was one of the old- 
fashioned workers, who could never keep still, so I was 
not permitted to do anything about the house, except to 
keep my own room in order. I had a fine opportunity 


156 


GLENWOOD. 


for the study of history, ancient and modern, and much 
else besides. Mrs. Harding had never studied botany, 
and I had; but not as much, nor as thoroughly as I 
wished. She sent for the latest and best works, and we 
studied them in the open air, and made play of it; 
selecting our plants and flowers, and examining them 
with pleasure and delight. When she became stronger, 
we would sometimes romp and play like children. 
When she was tired, I would read to her, till she was 
ready to walk or drive again. We hunted birds’ nests, 
picked berries and gathered flowers. It was the first 
and only playtime of my life. You can imagine how 
rejoiced I was to see her getting better and stronger. 
She was very watchful of herself, and considered what 
was best, and not what she liked best. With her love 
for her husband, and his affection for her, life was very 
dear and sweet. She rejoiced with every step she 
gained, as did all the rest of the household. 

“ I stayed from April till the middle of September ; 
and began to dread the return to the old life again. 
When I did go home, it looked more barren and dreary 
than ever. If the family where I had been staying 
had not had permanent help, I should have offered my- 
self in exchange for a home, and should have been as a 
daughter, with all the assistance I could render in that 
capacity.” 

“ I am sincerely thankful that you were debarred 
from it,” said Ealph Glenwood, clasping her lovingly 
in his arms with passionate kisses. “ Poor darling ; I 
am glad to know that the dread of the old life is over 
with forever; and now we will lock it away in the 
chambers of the past, never to trouble you again. You 
shall revel in all the sunshine that my love and life 
can bestow upon you.” 


GLENWOOD. 


157 


Margaret’s happy face answered him with sun- 
beams of joy playing over it. They sparkled in the 
soft depths of her bright eyes, and lurked in the dimples 
of her cheeks, and in the smile that wreathed her lips, 
as she thought how suddenly she had been crowned with 
the triple diadem of wedded love, peace and happiness. 

Train time had arrived, and our travelers were borne 
rapidly towards home, with its new meaning to Mar- 
garet. 

In three hours more, they were seated in the home 
carriage, and were being driven from the station, to 
find a glad welcome as the doors of Glenwood opened 
to receive them into the waiting mother’s arms. Aunt 
Dinah was too full of joy to stay in the background. 
The preparations for the evening were completed, leav- 
ing ample time to dress for the occasion, so she was 
ready to assist, as well as admire Margaret. 


158 


GLENWOOD. 


CHAPTER XIII. 

A' WEDDING PARTY AT GLENWOOD. 

The guests had arrived, and smiling faces and pleas- 
ant voices were everywhere. 

Margaret was radiantly lovely in snowy satin, 
trimmed with rich lace, that Mrs. Glenwood had added 
in her absence. It was almost a fortune in itself, and 
was the admiration and envy of many eyes. 

The bride’s abundant tresses were arranged with a 
coronet of orange blossoms, and a cluster of the same 
fragrant flowers at her throat and in her belt. Ralph 
Glenwood would have it so, without regard to other 
peoples’ notions and comments. He could not think 
of a bride without orange blossoms, nor chrysanthe- 
mums, which now, and ever afterwards, were but 
another name for Margaret. 

Three weeks had changed her greatly. She was more 
radiantly beautiful than ever, with the tint of wild 
roses in her cheeks, and her dark eyes resplendent with 
love and happiness. 

Very proud was Ralph Glenwood of his bride, and 
of the sensation she created. His flne face beamed as 
it had never done before, with the great joy that filled 
his soul and radiated the pathway of life. 

Margaret danced with ease and exquisite grace of 


GLENWOOD. 


159 


motion, though she danced hut little. She did not 
notice that the eyes of Mrs. Glenwood and Ralph often 
met in glances of pride, as they gazed fondly at their 
new treasure, while they could hardly realize that she 
was wholly their own. 

It occasioned no remarks when she was asked to 
play, and politely declined, hut when she joined in the 
singing, with her fresh, clear voice, much admiration 
was elicited. Her tones were as sweet and tender as the 
love-notes of a wild bird in its native forest; and not 
like the terrific screech and shrillness that roh the 
feminine voice of its charm and heauty. 

Her husband wondered how she became so conversant 
and familiar with the popular airs of the day. 

In dancing, singing and conversation, she did ample 
credit to herself, and to the man who was proud of 
being her husband. 

Aunt Dinah was in an unspeakable flutter of delight 
over Margaret’s splendid appearance. She and the 
other helpers had been given an opportunity to take 
sly glances at the gay throng; and having Pete under 
her charge and supervision, as usual, she often found 
something to criticise in his looks or behavior. 

Shet up dat big mouf ob youm,” was her first im- 
perative command. “ I fought dat ’nough had been 
said about dat, long ago. ’Tain’t no use to hab it 
open wide as a bam door.” 

“ Dey can’t see it,” said Pete, confidently, and with 
a comical show of meekness. 

“ Looks likely dey can’t ! Might as well say dey 
can’t see an open fireplace.” 

Pete laughed, as he usually did, at what Dinah 
said, so she walked him off till he could sober himself ; 


160 


GLENWOOD. 


while she cuffed his ears to aid him in the process, and 
lectured him “ for ’sturbin’ people.” 

Dinah could not keep her great black eyes from watch- 
ing and admiring Margaret, when they could be spared 
from Pete. Her delight found expression in words as 
characteristic, as they were earnest and voluble. 

“ Press de darlin’ ! ” she exclaimed. She is lublier 
dan a hull boatload ob tudder ones, yet how some oh dem 
odder ones would like ter git Marser Ralph, even yit ; 
and git him away from her. Dey smiles and smirks on 
him, ’nough ter make him dead sick ; but he hain’t got 
no eyes fur nobody but her ; bress de chile.” 

I t’inks she’s nice, too,” said Pete. I hain’t seen 
no face like her’n, ’cept it’s de flowers in de ’servatory ; 
an’ I hain’t hearn no voice like her’n.” 

“ Don’t s’pose you ebber will. So what’s de use 
talkin’ ob it. You hain’t seen, as I hab, how bad some 
ob ’em wanted to catch Marser Ralph Glenwood, long 
afore she got him.” 

Dey had years ’nough ter do dat little chore, afore 
dis time, if dey baited dar hooks right,” said Pete, 
wisely. He’s been in de worl’ a good while, I ’spec’s.” 

But look a here ! When you knows Missy Marg’et 
better, you will un’erstan’ jist what kine ob bait it took 
ter catch Marser Ralph Glenwood. You better shut de 
gate ob dat talkin’ machine ob yourn. I wasn’t speakin’ 
ter you, not d’rectly. I was mos’ly talkin’ to mysef. I 
fin’s mysef better company. I was gwine ter gib you a 
slap, fur dat collar ob youm. You has poked at it, till it 
looks like a wilted rag. I had drudder try and fix up 
de dog.” 

Dinah’s caustic remarks never affected Pete’s equa- 
nimity in the least. His voice would be as pleasant, 
and his face would beam as brightly as if she had 


GLENWOOD. 


161 


given him the highest praise. His placidity of disposi- 
tion was most enviable, though often exasperating to 
Dinah. 

Time flitted by on joyful wing, till the night was 
far spent, and the silver-chimed clock told the hour of 
leave-taking. The ladies laughing and kissing one an- 
other, seemed to the gentlemen who witnessed it, the 
sweetest part of it all. 

The party was a delightful affair throughout, and if 
there were envyings, or heart-burnings, they were kept 
well out of sight. There was no extravagant display 
to be trumpeted abroad; yet it was a grand entertain- 
ment, worthy of Glenwood, and was bountiful enough 
so that the poor, the widow and the fatherless were sent 
a goodly portion, as had been the family custom ever 
since Glenwood had existed — so that others might re- 
joice with them, over the event of Ralph Glen wood’s 
marriage, while each wished him long life and un- 
broken happiness. 

The guests went their way; and ere long, Glenwood 
was left to peaceful slumber, while in other homes, the 
event was discussed till it was so near dawn, that it 
did not seem worth while to try to sleep at all, till an- 
other night should drop its mantle over a weary world 
again. 


162 


GLENWOOD. 


CHAPTEK XIV. 

SHADOWS DISPERSED BY MARGARET. 

The following morning, a scarcely perceptible shadow 
rested on Mrs. Glenwood’s still lovely face, as she said 
to Margaret, in tones as sweet and gentle as if no 
shadow touched her heart, “ My daughter, I suppose 
your place is at the head of the table now ? ” 

Margaret’s velvety eyes looked lovingly into the 
face of the elder lady, as she replied, “ By no means, 
mother. I want to choose my place by your side, as 
your own daughter, if you will permit me.” 

“ The world, or the meddlesome portion of it, might 
say that you were yielding your rights to me.” 

“ It is my right to consult my own heart and feel- 
ings in this matter, so long as I do no harm to others. 
This is our own affair, entirely. The outside world 
has nothing to do with it. We will leave others to 
manage their home-matters, while we manage ours. 
Give me a daughter’s place by your side, as I said be- 
fore, and see that I am a good child,” she said, laughing, 
to dispel the shadow which came of Mrs. Glenwood’s 
thought of being set aside in her own home, to give place 
to another. 

“ Are you in earnest, my daughter ? ” 

Most certainly I am ! Don’t you see what a fine 


GLENWOOD. 


163 


chance it will give me to watch Ralph, and see that he 
behaves properly, and uses his fork instead of his knife, 
no matter how inconvenient it may be. I wish that 
etiquette were as strictly regarded in other matters of 
more importance, particularly in the rude staring of 
grown people, as well as children. One can better over- 
look it in a child, thinking that he or she had not been 
better taught ; but Ralph must come under my eye now, 
in table manners at least, so that he may not forget his 
early training.” 

There was a laugh and a kiss, and sunshine came 
again, and seemed even brighter for the temporary 
shadow — so Margaret took up her life at Glenwood, 
blessing and being blessed. There were songs of glad- 
ness in her heart that brightened her face and glorified 
all that she looked upon, till it almost seemed to her, as 
if she had exchanged worlds. 

Even the cat and dog followed her around, and 
looked at her as if they regarded her with worshipping 
love, as did the other and more important members of 
the household. Her presence brought perpetual sun- 
shine to the beautiful home, as of old, before the shadow 
of death had darkened it ; but now, every living thing 
rejoiced in the change that had come. 

There was at once a settled determination in Mar- 
garet’s mind and heart, that Glenwood should be an 
Eden of love and peace, as it was of beauty, and she 
would use her best endeavors to have it so. She would 
not spare herself in her efforts to brighten and gladden 
it, and dispel every shadow that should come within 
her reach. 

In her heart there was a perpetual song of thanksgiv- 
ing for the love and tenderness that at last crowned 
and blessed her life, and for home and its many com- 


164 


GLENWOOD. 


forts, where she had hitherto felt only privation, and 
the weary longing for a home of peace and love in 
heaven, but now she sometimes trembled for fear that 
her happiness was too great for earth. 

It was Margaret^s character to be all that she ap- 
peared to be. The friends she won at first, she was 
sure to keep, if no enemy belied her truth or sincer- 
ity. She had but one face to wear. Her sweetness of 
disposition, and her cheerfulness and patience, showed 
better in her own home, wherever it was, than for com- 
pany or strangers. She had no ill-temper to conceal 
with extra smiles for others, and then wrong and tor- 
ture the inmates of home with unrestrained crossness 
and snarling, while some frail life and sensitive heart 
goes to its death, grieving over the wounds that are 
too deep for earthly healing. 

Margaret was delighted with the rich furniture and 
elegant carpets, but more than all, with the library and 
conservatory, and the fine pictures that adorned the 
walls. 

Aunt Dinah came to Mrs. Glenwood with uplifted 
arms, exclaiming : Bless dat chile ! She knows how 
ter do eberything in de worl’, an’ knows how ter Sum- 
mer on de pianner too, while most young ladies knows 
dat, an’ nuffin’ else. I was jist gwine ter mix bread, an’ 
had stirred it all reddy, when she washed her ban’s nice, 
an ’had ’em inter it in no time; an’ for I knowed 
it, she was flyin’ roun’ at all kin’s ob work, an’ said 
she wanted ter be good fur sumpin’ too She is good 
fur sumpin’ ! It’s like a campmeetin’ ter hear her 
singin’ trou’ de house. De canaries don’t know what 
ter do ’bout it. Dey sings dar little selbs mos’ ter de’f, 
ter keep up wid her, but I kin tell ’em I drudder hear 


GLENWOOD. 


165 


her sing, ^nough sight. Dar is more birds dan dar is 
folks like her in de worl\” 

^^Poor birds,” said Mrs. Glenwood, smiling in the 
old, pleased way that Dinah rememlered, before the 
shadows fell which blotted out all gladness from her 
heart. 

“ I bleeb de LoP sent her here, dat I do,” said Dinah. 
“ He sent her, jis^ as he sends de sunshine, de birds, 
an^ de flowers to make us glad in de springtime, after 
de long coF winter. Her laugh does de heart good. I 
feel younger already. 

“ She is out dar now, feedin^ dat sick calf, an’ talkin’ 
sorry to it, like it would make you cry, an’ it looks at 
her like it s’pose she will make it well again. She had 
Pete put it on clean straw, an’ has got him cardin’ it ter 
do its skin good, an’ she made him rub its legs wid 
straw. It’s dat Aldery calf, dat Pete hurt, overfeedin’ 
it, an’ Marser Ralph was so sorry. She says she will 
make it live, an’ I bleeb she will. She is coaxin’ it ter 
eat de clover tea an’ milk dat she b’iled fur it, an’ if dat 
calf don’t live ter please her, den it ain’t no decent 
calf, dat’s all. It looks bright an’ smart now, so I 
guess it means ter come roun’ all right, any how. 

“ I is fear’d she is too good. Missy Glenwood, an’ 
dat’s what made me come an’ talk about it. I is 
afear’d de angels will want her darselbs.” 

“ I hope not, Dinah. It would break our hearts to 
give her up. She has had her time of sorrow. It is 
with her, the sunshine after the storm. Her mother 
died when she was a child, and life has not been very 
bright to her since then.” 

Well, I guess you is right,” said the good soul, and 
her face brightened again. “ Dis worl’ needs angels 


166 


GLENWOOD. 


too. Dar ain’t many folks fit ter die ob dar goodness, 
outside ob dis house.” 

So she bobbed her head, and departed to regions be- 
low, where there were savory smells betokening the 
near approach of dinner. 

Kalph Glenwood asked Margaret to accompany him 
to see the beauties of the farm, as he called the high- 
bred horses, cattle, fine sheep, and the various breeds 
of poultry. They all knew him and loved him, as was 
evident by their desire to get to him, and show some of 
the affection that beamed from their bright eyes. Even 
the grunting Berkshires, Essex and Chester Whites, 
were not forgotten, but had their meed of praise and 
admiration. 

Many callers were received as the days passed, and 
many calls were returned. Afternoon company came; 
and one of the party confidently told Margaret that she 
was giving up, and yielding too much to Mrs. Glen- 
wood. She warned her that she would soon have no 
rights at all. 

It won’t do for a young wife to yield too much to 
a mother-in-law,” was a sage suggestion, given as a hint 
for Margaret to act upon. 

“ I have no fears,” was the pleasant reply. “ Mother 
has a heart, and she is a lady and a Christian. I will 
be a true and loving daughter to her, as long as she and 
I live. I shall not fail to do everything that lies in 
my power for her comfort and happiness. I would do it 
from a sense of duty, even if I did not love her.” 

** You of course can do as you please,” said Mrs. 
Gross blandly, and with the words long drawn out. 

May Shirling said if she had married Ralph Glen- 
wood, he would have had to provide her a home of her 
own separate from his mother. I suppose you will insist 


GLENWOOD. 


167 


upon it too, the same as any one else would, as long as 
Mr. Glenwood has abundant means for it. Men are so 
obtuse, he won’t think of it unless you set your foot 
down.” 

Margaret smiled at the thought of “ setting her foot 
down,” and was reminded of the serpent in Eden, as she 
replied gravely, I shall do no such thing ; and on no 
account will I entertain a thought of it. Home will he 
doubly dear with mother in it. That of itself is an 
added joy to me. I have mourned so bitterly for my 
own mother, who died when I was a child. No other 
home could ever be to me what Glenwood is.” 

There was a toss of the visitor’s head, hut the carp- 
ing mouth was closed. Ever afterwards, Margaret was 
treated with cool reserve by the woman who would have 
sown discord and saddened the happy home if she could 
have induced Margaret to yield to her wishes. 

The young wife was better pleased with her cool de- 
meanor than Mrs. Gross could think possible. A pre- 
tence of friendship was abhorrent to her. It was a new 
experience to Margaret, this entering the home of an- 
other in the guise of a friend, and proving a traitor by 
striving to stir up dissension in the household that had 
extended her the warm hand of friendship, kindly 
courtesy and regard. 

Dinah was well schooled in such matters. She could 
tell how often just such friends had entered the beauti- 
ful home, and had come into the kitchen on the pre- 
tence of wanting a drink of water, when in reality they 
only wished to hire Mrs. Glenwood’s trusty helper, and 
at the same time, take a look into what did not concern 
them, and ask questions. 

All meddling with Dinah, however, was as unavail- 
ing as it was with Margaret. She would have stayed 


168 


GLENWOOD. 


with the Glenwoods as a starving dog will cling to his 
master, with fond devotion, even when he has not a 
crust or a bone to give him; and Dinah would have 
gone out to earn their daily bread for the Glenwoods, 
had they needed it. 


GLENWOOD. 


169 


CHAPTER XV. 

MES. GLENWOOD LECTUKES HEE SON. 

I HAVE a lecture for you, my son,” said Mrs. Glen- 
wood, as with a smiling face he entered the library, and 
seated himself on the lounge, in a half-reclining atti- 
tude, which was an indication that he wished to have a 
good talk with his mother. He laughed as he replied: 

‘‘ What is it, mother ? Have I done anything 
wrong ? ” 

“ Ho, only I was afraid you might drift into it, 
either now, or in the future, that is all.” 

“ And you are going to punish me beforehand to pre- 
vent it ; is that what you mean, mother ? ” 

Hot exactly,” was the assuring reply, hut I am 
going to save you from the punishment of your own 
acts, by counselling prevention.” 

“ Say on, mother ! I am all attention, now that my 
curiosity is aroused.” 

“ It is of Margaret that I would speak. I warn you 
not to rest in passive content, now that you have won 
her, and think that that is all. Hers is an organization 
not to be trifled with. She is all heart and soul, and 
she will live in her affections, or not live at all. They 
are so strong, that where they cling, they will cling for 
life ; and if torn away, she will surely die.” 


170 


GLENWOOD. 


“Mother, you startle me! And she so happy and 
joyous.” 

“ And so she ‘will remain, if you do not slumber at 
your post, like an unfaithful sentinel, and show her 
coldness or neglect.” 

“ What do you mean, mother ? Do you think that I 
do not love her ? Or do you imagine that my heart is 
of such poor, weak material that I shall grow careless 
of the treasure I have won — or that love will melt 
away like a snow-wreath, or vanish like the mist of 
the morning ? ” 

“By no means! Don’t look so hurt, my son, but 
hear me out. I have unbounded faith in the stability 
of your character, and in the fidelity of your heart and 
affections; and I glory in the purity of your life, but 
I have a woman’s heart, and a woman’s sorrowful ex- 
perience, where no harm was intended, and no love was 
lacking. I want to spare our darling from the pain 
that too many husbands thoughtlessly or selfishly in- 
flict on the heart they have won, till a gulf widens be- 
tween them, and the wife’s wounded affections center 
on herself, or her children, if she has any ; and though 
she will still care for her husband with the same solici- 
tude for his life, health and comfort — her happiness 
will be gone; and her faith and trust in his love will 
be a thing of the past. She will mourn and weep in 
secret over her broken idol, and sigh for her heart-free 
girlhood again. The trailing tendrils of affection will 
reach and cling the more passionately to her children ; 
or, if she has none, she will long with yearning anguish 
for love and rest in heaven ; yet she will grieve intensely 
at the thought of leaving him who has won her heart, 
even though she thinks he does not care for it.” 

“ Mother, I am distressed at all this,” was Balph 


GLENWOOD. 


171 


Glenwood’s pained reply. “Am I, or is Margaret in 
danger of anything of the kind? If so, show me how 
to avoid it.” 

“ In the first place, it lies in your power to make or 
mar your own happiness. All men are not so favored, 
for all women are not perfect. Selfishness in either 
party greatly mars the happiness of married life. 

“ I have made our darling my study. Her charac- 
ter is fully formed and of rare perfection. I have had 
some fears that you might, like many others, feel so 
contented in present happiness, as to draw fatally on 
the happiness and well being of the wife, for all her 
future years. A man wins her love in the first place, 
by giving, or showing evidence of love and affection on 
his part, and by bestowing careful and loving atten- 
tions, or the semblance of them, and letting her see only 
the good qualities of his mind and heart. If it all 
ends in a longer or shorter period after marriage, she 
will be loth to believe that he ever loved her at all. The 
sweet fountain of her affections will be chilled or 
frozen, and her wounded spirit will seek other refuge, 
as I said before — in God, in prayer, or in the heart 
and love of a child — and last of all, there are women 
of weaker mind and nature, though true and tender, 
and longing to do right, who would still be all that a 
man could desire in a wife, did the anchor of love hold 
steadfast; yet, when not finding it so, they, in their 
desperation will turn to others, and take the false sem- 
blance of love that may be offered, and fly to other arms 
for shelter, with all the debasing stigma of sin and 
crime that is attached to it ; too maddened and reckless 
to see the result, or to think or care for ruined homes 
or blighted lives, till too late.” 

“ Oh, mother I ” was the startled cry of Ealph Glen- 


172 


GLENWOOD. 


wood. “ Are husbands to blame for so much of sor- 
row, wrong and ruin ? ” 

“ In many cases, though often without any intent of 
wrong. But it is not always that a wife can know or 
believe it, even when it is not intended. She feels, or 
thinks that she sees the fact as it exists, and may fail 
to read the cause aright. She is sure that if he loves 
her, as he professed to, he will show it, and spare her 
all needless pain. That is a woman’s reasoning, from 
a woman’s standpoint, in all cases. So I have pointed 
out to you the shoals and quicksands where the happi- 
ness of married life is too often wrecked. 17. P. Willis 
knew a woman’s heart when he wrote: 

“ ‘ May slighted women turn, 

And as the vine the oak has shaken off, 

Bend lightly to her trust again ? 

Oh no! by all her loveliness — by all that makes 
Life poetry and beauty, no! 

Make her a slave ; steal from her rosy cheek, 

By needless jealousies; let the last star 
Leave her a watcher by your couch of pain ; 

Wrong her by petulance, suspicion, all 
That makes her cup a bitterness — yet give 
One evidence of love, and earth has not an 
Emblem of devotedness like hers. 

But oh ! estmnge her once — it boots not how ; 

‘ By wrong, or silence — or anything that tells 
A change has come upon your tenderness — 

And there is not a feeling out of high heaven. 

Her pride o’ermastereth not.’” 

“ It is a wonderful insight into woman’s nature, and 
makes my heart ache for them,” said Ealph Glenwood. 
“How vividly you both have pictured a woman’s ca- 
pacity for loving, as well as suffering. I do not wonder 
that J esus spoke to women with such pitying tenderness, 


GLENWOOD. 


173 


while here on earth ; when He was often, so severe and 
sweeping in His condemnation of the sins of men. 
When His disciples wished Him to reprove Mary with 
harshness, or send her away, Jesus bade them let her 
alone, to do what she would with the ointment. Who 
of us can forget that at another time. He said tenderly : 
‘ Neither do I condemn thee ; go sin no more ! ’ 

“I have always marveled at the bravery of the 
woman standing there alone, when strong men in their 
hidden guilt and self-righteousness, fled from the con- 
demnation their sins merited, while she, without one 
word in her own defence, stood meekly waiting her 
sentence from the Divine Master, who knew her whole 
heart. How wonderful and beautiful His reply, that 
has sounded through the centuries. Would that man 
had less to answer for, in woman’s sinning and in her 
sorrow and suffering. ’ ’ 

“Yes, my son, would to God it were so,” replied 
Mrs. Glen wood. “ But to return to Margaret. Life 
has been barren of most of the pleasures that other 
girls enjoy before they reach twenty years. She loves 
her home, and she loves me — but you are the sun and 
center of her happiness ; and now that she is your wife, 
she is as deserving and worthy of your attention, as if 
you had not caged her, and labeled her yours, with 
your name., so that no other gentleman can do anything 
for her happiness and have it appear right, in the eyes 
of the world. 

“You have taken young ladies to concerts and drives 
whom you did not love, and who did not love you. It 
has not been often, and has probably not been done for 
your own pleasure. Politeness and courtesy demand 
something of us, but duty demands more. Let us be 
most loving and tender of our own, while we stay with 


174 


GLENWOOD. 


them, or while they are with us. The time will come 
when we cannot show our love, or they cannot hear us, 
no matter how pleadingly we call. 

“ Your going with other young ladies had to be done 
out of compliment or respect for our guests. It doubt- 
less was expected as a matter of course. That was all 
right, but it will take no more time and will be no more 
trouble to take Margaret. She is wholly our own, and 
dearer to us, than all the world besides.’^ 

“ Yes, a thousand-fold dearer,” was the fervent re- 
sponse, welling up from the great heart that could 
never do otherwise than beat loyally for Margaret. 

“ Your time is not wholly occupied, and the horses 
have but little to do,” said Mrs. Glenwood. “ See to it, 
that you take Margaret to drive with you often. Let 
her see that you take as much pains with your personal 
appearance, for her sake, as you would for any other 
lady. Let her realize that you do it out of love and 
regard for her, and you will find that her love and re- 
spect for you, and your gentlemanliness will greatly 
increase her affection for you, and will add to the 
happiness of both. She can drive out with me, of 
course as she has often done from the first. I love to 
have her go as often as she chooses, but that does not 
answer in your place. If you are glad of her love, 
never let her see that you fail to appreciate her loving 
preference for your company, above all others. You 
may be sure that she will show it, unless you make her 
feel that you do not care for her. You know how 
pained you would be, if you thought she cared for 
some other gentleman more than she cares for you, or 
if you thought her indifferent to you; so see to it that 
you are consistent.” 

“ Thank you, mother, you have done me a great 


GLENWOOD. 


175 


service, and one that I shall never forget. I see it all, 
and realize that I was drifting into just the error that 
you have pointed out. I am sure that you must have 
felt something of the pain of all this, somewhere in 
your own life, and must have seen it in the lives of 
others. I thank you and bless you for the timely warn- 
ing, both for Margaret’s sake as well as for mine, and I 
shall act upon it at once. I will take her with me this 
afternoon to Brookdale Falls, if you will not be lonely. 
I fear that I should have been careless, thinking that 
any time would do, till a longer time had elapsed than 
I might have been aware of. No doubt it is so with 
many other men, till hard feelings come, and hard 
words begin, even where there is a world of love on both 
sides. Has Margaret felt anything of all this? Or 
have you detected it in her looks and actions ? ” 

“ Neither, my son. She has probably never thought 
of it, as yet, and I did not wish her to have occasion 
for it. A wife usually keeps her own confidence, unless 
some great wrong or abuse compels her to make it 
known. Even then, she will suffer long, and will al- 
most go to her death before she will mention it. Some 
will die, and still, to the last breath screen the author of 
her misery. It is wrong, for it makes a villain the more 
brutal, if he thinks he will not be exposed and pun- 
ished. Wholesome fear would be a restraint and would 
exert a salutary influence in such cases. 

“ I believe that is the sentiment of every honest 
heart,” said her son. “ You remember it went hard 
with such offenders when father was on the Judge’s 
bench and pronounced their sentence. But I must seek 
Margaret and give the invitation for the drive, and see 
if there is any shadow on her face.” 

He found her in the conservatory worshiping the 


176 


GLENWOOD. 


flowers, as Dinah called it, and flitting like a humming 
bird among them, while every movement of her slender 
figure was one of bewitching and unstudied grace. 

“ 1 am in search of you, my pearl, to invite you to 
drive with me this afternoon.’’ 

“ l^ot without mother, do you mean? She may be 
lonely,” said Margaret, her lovely face showing tender 
solicitude. 

She does not wish to go this time. I have been 
speaking to her concerning the drive I propose.” 

“ Dear mother,” she said tenderly, and then lifted 
her face for the proffered kiss, with thanks for the 
invitation. 

“ I fear I shall have to shovel snow for exercise, 
when snow comes. I can find so little to do, I do not 
know what to do with myself. Mother will sweep and 
dust, though I want to save her from it. Dinah wants 
to do it too, but she won’t hear to it. She says she finds 
it good exercise, as far as it goes, and is sure that it is 
a benefit to her. 

“ Dinah thinks I must do nothing in her dominion, 
though I steal a march on her sometitmes, and wedge 
myself in a little, here and there ; but I feel the need of 
more to do. I take walks, drive out with mother, study 
and practice music, and talk with her, and with your 
highness, but, after all, I am at a loss to know what to 
do with the remainder of my time. I would like to do 
something useful for some one, if I could find it to do. 
They tell me there is an old lady on the other side of 
our woods, who is ill and poor. I want to go and see 
her and try to do something for her comfort.” 

“ Well, Mrs. Industry,” was the laughing reply, 
“ you might give a little more time kissing a great, tall, 
homely fellow whom I have been acquainted with for 


GLENWOOD. 


177 


years, and might, in your goodness of heart, look on it 
as a kindness,” but before he had finished the sentence, 
his hands were uplifted to the threatened ears, and since 
she could not get at them, she gave an extra kiss ‘or two 
for the pains he took to shield those appendages from 
harm. 

“ Dar’s a man dat wants to see dem Catchweals 
sheeps and dem dar Birkspear pigs,” said Pete, whose 
step was heard in the hall, though he tried to show good 
manners and step lightly. Pete went to the kitchen 
and inverted himself two or three times for Dinah’s 
benefit, as he wished to see what her remarks would be 
on the subject. 

“ I ’spected you was big ’nough, so I needn’t see no 
mo’ ob dem shines,” and there was a look on her face 
that said more than words. “ Dime by, you’ll turn 
yer libber tudder side up, an’ die for it, an’ den who is 
gwine ter be ter de ’spence ob buryin’ ye, Pd like ter 
know ? ” 

Dat can be talked ober arterwards, when I doan 
need ter be plagued bearin’ it,” said Pete, with no very 
serious countenance. 

“ I should fink you’d be afeared ter stan’ on yer 
head fur fear de heff ob dem big feet ob youm, would 
drive yer head, clean inter de groun’.” 

“ I knows plenty ob folks dat can’t wear Frindriller’s 
slippers, an’ dar is one in dis room now, ’sides me, dat 
can’t do it.” 

“ You jis’ shut up yer blab. I’se wor’d out wid it,” 
said Dinah, as she pinned on a white linen collar for 
the afternoon. “ You is ’nough to wear de ears offen 
a mewel. I don’t know how yer ’spose I kin stan’ it.” 

I has talked plenty ob times afore Steve Flint’s 
mewel, an’ his ears is fust rate yet. I finks dey has 


178 


GLENWOOD. 


grow’d longer wid de pleasure ob bearin’ me speak, 
’cause he lissens better ’an you duz, an’ says nuffin ’bout 
his ears bein’ damag’d wid it.” 

“ I is gwine ter damage yourn wid de coal shubble, 
if you doan go an’ shell dem cramberry beans. Dey 
has laid in dat carriage loft eber since de fros’ came, 
an’ dey might lay dar jis so, forebber, afore you’d 
tech ’em, if I didn’t drive yer to it.” 

“ I kin cram berries, an’ I kin cram beans,” said 
Pete, “ an’ all I wants is der chance ter do it.” 

“ Pigs can do jis’ so too, only dey has ter much man- 
ners ter brag about it. Polks oughter hab dat much 
sense, an’ keep dar mouf shet about what dey kin eat.” 

“ Dem beans wasn’t dry ’nough ter shell, ’cause I 
tried ’em, but I ’spec’s dey is now. I’ll take dat word- 
out scrub broom an’ smash de daylight out ob ’em,” 
said Pete, with a broad grin, as Dinah boosted him out 
of the door, and smiled at his laughter. 

When the hour came for the drive, Ralph Glenwood 
presented himself as carefully dressed as for company 
and even more so. He found Margaret becomingly 
arrayed and bewitchingly beautiful. She was all smiles 
as she went to kiss the mother good-bye, and tell her not 
to be lonesome. 

Mrs. Glenwood’s smile was one of answering affec- 
tion and pleasure in seeing the happiness of her chil- 
dren. It was just the step that pleased her best, since 
she so earnestly desired the continuance of their mu- 
tual love and regard for each other’s happiness. 

Ralph Glenwood gave his arm to Margaret and as- 
sisted her to a seat in the carriage, and in a twinkling, 
the light feet of Arabian Princess whirled them out of 
sight. 

After a few minutes’ walk on the veranda to breathe 


GLENWOOD. 


179 


the crisp autumn air, Mrs. Glenwood entered the parlor 
and went to the piano, and lost herself playing the songs 
of other days, till it was time for tea. 

When the early twilight was deepening, Kalph Glen- 
wood and Margaret returned with faces beaming with 
pleasure and their physical being invigorated with the 
exhilarating drive, each wishing that Mrs. Glenwood 
had accompanied them, and affectionately told her so. 
They did not believe in leaving words of endearment 
to be breathed over coffined forms and still hearts, that 
might have been cheered with them while living, be- 
lieving that in many cases they might have lived the 
longer for it. 

Ralph Glenwood never forgot the lesson his mother 
taught him, or read to him, from the pages of a woman’s 
heart, giving the key of a great deal of wedded unhappi- 
ness and sorrow, that a little unselfish care and fore- 
thought might prevent, and set to harmony much of 
the discord of married life. 

The newly wedded couple drove out often together, 
sometimes alone, but more frequently in the two-seated 
carriage, as Margaret tenderly pleaded with the 
widowed mother to accompany them, and thus lessen 
the loneliness she was sure the mother would feel in 
their absence. 


180 


GLENWOOD. 


CHAPTER XVL 

margaeet's ministrations at the bedside of 

MRS. BLAIR. 

It was a pleasant afternoon in November, when Mar- 
garet found her way to the little brown cot on the edge 
of the woods, where naked trees stood ready to do battle 
with winter winds and storms. The evergreens were 
dark and somber, as if gloomily meditating on the de- 
parted glories of the year, and were ready to give what 
coloring they might to the brown deariness of winter 
which was fast approaching. 

Underneath the tall trees were hardy ferns, nestled 
closely to the bosom of mother earth, partly sheltered 
beneath a coverlet of leaves ready to face whatever 
might come of storm or tempest. 

In close proximity were verdant mosses and the del- 
icate vines of the partridge berry, keeping close com- 
pany with the fragrant wintergreen, bravely bearing 
frost and cold without changing color or turning pale 
over it. The laurel was there, keeping alive pleasant 
memories of the freshness and verdure of the departed 
summer. 

Margaret often stopped to admire their beauty and 
note the pleasing contrasts with the various shades of 


GLENWOOD. 


181 


gray, drab and russet which the trunks and limbs of the 
naked trees presented, with now and then a white birch 
to give variety to the quiet scene. She carefully exam- 
ined the varied coloring of stones, and the beautiful 
mosses and lichens, as well as the nests of the wild birds, 
and wondered how the pretty owners could leave such 
beautiful homes with glad heart and joyous wing, and 
fly away with no sorrow or regret for what they were 
leaving behind them. 

The brown cot where the sick one resided was small, 
old and weather-beaten. It had seen the storms of 
many winters, like its owner; and looked as if it were 
lonely, so far away from other habitations. 

A garden was fenced with brush, interwoven between 
stakes driven into the ground, giving it something of 
the look of primeval times. A few cabbages that had 
failed to head, were still fresh and green, and were all 
that was left amid the desolation the frost had made. 

There were a half dozen apple trees, and a few low- 
growing, stunted cherry trees, which seemed to have 
grown ill-shapen from very sourness of disposition, to 
match the bitter, sour fruit they bore, as if out of pure 
malice towards all humankind. 

A hedge of currant and gooseberry bushes extended 
nearly around the enclosure — only leaving room for the 
herb-bed, which was once supposed to contain curative 
properties, for almost every ill that flesh is heir to. 

The little plot of ground which had been taken from 
the wilds of nature, had been coaxed into yielding a 
goodly amount of vegetables, that helped greatly towards 
family support. 

The aged mother and her daughter had to have the 
sole care of everything. He, who was supposed to be 
the head of the house and the support of the family, 


182 


GLENWOOD. 


spent his working hours in the village groggeries, doing 
odd jobs occasionally, and taking pay in bad whiskey 
and stale beer, with sometimes a “ bite of cold victuals.” 
He often slept in the stable, or on the hay or straw in 
the barn, while the wife he had vowed to love and 
cherish, trembled in fear of his coming ; and felt a relief 
when the hour of midnight passed without his kicking 
at the door, and having to be helped into the house, and 
into bed. 

She had to support the family, and bear his abuse in 
double measure, because she would not give him all her 
small earnings to buy liquor, and let the family starve. 
The brutalized husband saw no shame in putting on her 
shoulders the whole and undivided burden of life’s cares 
and sorrows, of which he was the bitterest portion, with 
his brutality and degradation, which had swallowed up 
all feeling for him, except loathing and disgust. 

There were a few hives of bees that had worked dili- 
gently for the sad-hearted women, and had gathered 
honey, which was exchanged at the grocery for other 
needed articles, while the darker portions of the stored 
sweets that were less salable, were eaten on their own 
table, where there was seldom milk or butter. 

The lowly little house wore an air of neatness which 
was pleasant to see. The two small windows of the 
living room had snowy curtains made out of old ma- 
terial which had done service in some other form, as 
sheets of wearing apparel. Margaret noticed all this, 
and thought the better of the inmates for the creditable 
effort to do their best in all things, out of almost nothing. 

A sweet-brier rose-bush clambered over the low win- 
dow, where it had been busy tossing its delicious fra- 
grance into the room when the windows were open, in 
its season of bloom and scattering it in other directions. 


GLENWOOD. 


183 


when they were not, like many rare souls whom God 
has given to bless the earth, who cannot keep their 
wealth of sweetness to themselves, hut must scatter it 
around them in good deeds and pleasant words. 

There were two fine grape vines; one of which was 
twined over the rude porch that sheltered the door, and 
made it a thing of beauty when in leaf and fruit. Its 
mate and companion was trained over the end of the 
house, and sheltered it from the afternoon sun in sum- 
mer. Year after year they had extended their branches 
and spread out their broad leaves, to drink in sunshine 
and dew, and fill out the purple clusters which were 
borne in lavish abundance, as if to gladden the worn 
toilers within, who were weary with the sorrow that 
drunkenness never fails to bring to the heart of woman. 

The great oak at the door had followed the example 
of its neighbors of the forests, and dropped its whisper- 
ing leaves, preferring to remain in undress uniform, 
rather than wear faded and shabby garments. It 
seemed well content to wait till new clothing should 
come from tbe hand that never failed to bestow it, in 
due season, so that it could make a creditable appear- 
ance, at the time of year when such things look the most 
appropriate. 

The acorns, and the beautiful cups in which they 
grew, were scattered on the ground in lavish profusion, 
waiting to see what Hature would do with the pretty 
offering. 

The burrs of the chestnut tree near by had been raked 
up in piles to be burned as fuel, as well as to give a bet- 
ter look of neatness to the lonely home of poverty and 
illness. 

The house had but one room, and a small bedroom 
and pantry, and an attic above; so low that a grown 


184 


GLENWOOD. 


person could not stand erect, except in the center; and 
yet it gave room for many things not in constant use, 
which enabled the inmates to keep the lower rooms look- 
ing tidier and more homelike. 

A few nice chickens, tame with being fed the crumbs 
from the table, stood looking up into Margaret’s face 
as she rapped at the door, waiting till she was bidden 
to enter. Then they strayed away in search of crickets 
and grasshoppers, which had constituted the greater 
share of their living. They could not yet believe that 
the frost had destroyed their game. 

A voice tremulous with weakness and tears bade her 
enter, as Margaret called out and asked if she might 
come in. Her face was like a ray of sunshine to the 
tear-wet eyes, that looked wonderingly at her, and then 
at the disordered room, as if ashamed, though she was 
powerless to help it. 

Margaret’s eyes were dim with the dew of sympathy, 
as she bent over the weary, sick one, who had much to 
dishearten and discourage her. She had been brought 
low with fever, and had not rallied well after it. Age 
and poverty were against her; and she was miserable, 
and too ill to be out of bed. 

A child of some five years was playing on the floor, 
and had made disorder, where its mother had left every- 
thing neat and tidy before going out washing in the 
morning. It was the only thing she could do, to pro- 
cure the necessities of life, while her husband spent his 
earnings in liquid fire, which had consumed all man- 
hood and decency, and had transformed him into a 
brute. 

I heard that you were ill,” said Margaret, “ so I 
came to cheer you up a little, and see what I can do 
for your comfort, to help you to get well again. I have 



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GLENWOOD. 


185 


brought you some jelly that Mrs. Glenwood sent you, 
with some tea and sugar, and here I have some new 
butter. Dinah sent this bread, and wishes you to see if 
she can’t surpass most people in bread-making. I know 
how much better things taste to the sick, if they come 
from somewhere else, so I want you to eat and have it 
do you good.” But Margaret said nothing of what she 
herself had brought, which was in the basket, and not 
mentioned. 

Tears came into the sunken and faded eyes, as they 
looked at the lovely face, and then at the tokens of kind- 
ness and good-will which Margaret had spread out be- 
fore her, while expressing tender words of sympathy for 
her illness and loneliness. 

Why should you care for an old body like me ? ” 
asked the quavering voice, as if earth had no room for 
the aged. 

For the same reason that our Saviour bade us visit 
the sick in their affliction, and the widow and father- 
less. I could not hope to win heaven, if I lost such 
opportunities from neglect, or indifference. So cheer 
up. We shall not forget you, now that I have found the 
way here.” 

“ You are an angel. The angel of Glenwood.” 

“ No, not that,” replied Margaret, smiling, “ but I 
love to think that angels hover over Glenwood, as well 
as here, and over all other homes of prayer and peace.” 

‘‘ I thought you was the young Mrs. Glenwood,” said 
the still tremulous voice. “I was sure that it could 
be nobody else.” 

‘‘ Yes; that is my name. You will excuse me a few 
moments while I make you a cup of hot tea. Some 
nourishment will refresh and strengthen you. I will 
shake up your pillows to ease your tired head, and see 


186 


GLENWOOD. 


what else I can do to lessen weariness. That is what 
we are in the world for, to do good, wherever we have 
opportunity.” 

As Margaret arranged the pillows, she talked on, and 
then went out and gathered sticks for the fire, and soon 
had the tea and food by the bedside, and tried to en- 
courage Mrs. Blair to eat. 

“ It’s too much for you to do for a poor old body like 
me. It is not like many of the young folks of now-a- 
days. So much pleasure makes ’em selfish, an’ not like 
they used to be. They don’t take pains to notice that 
there is sickness an’ sorrow in the world. 

“ Some have hearts yet, and begin woman’s mission 
early in life ; and some, it is true, are selfish and care- 
less, as you say ; but you shall not want for friends,” said 
Margaret soothingly, as she handed her a cup of tea 
to sip, after she had propped up the pillows to support 
the weary body that enshrined a still wearier soul. 

While the water was heating she had swept the fioor 
and tidied up the room, and washed the face and hands 
of the child, and gave it food to eat, though it was too 
bashful to lift its eyes to her face. 

The invalid ate with a thankful heart, and a new 
relish. Kindness and sympathy made it doubly refresh- 
ing, and turned her thoughts into new channels. 

“ I have a good darter,” said Mrs. Blair, more cheer- 
fully. “ It is hard for her, poor creature, with a 
drunken husband, an’ now for a good spell, she’s has 
had me on her hands, sick a-bed, so I couldn’t even 
keep the house while she has had to be away washing. 
The poor dear has had to keep at it, for fear she would 
lose her place. I don’t know what would become of 
us, if she should miss her chance ter ’am something.” 


GLENWOOD. 


187 


“ I don^t think she will,” assured Margaret. It 
cannot be that an Omnipotent Father will see you lose 
every drop of consolation and help, now that you cannot 
help yourself. But it is hard for you to be left so. I 
wish I had known it sooner. We might have made it 
easier for you, in some way, I am sure.” 

Bless yer dear heart, I wasn’t complainin’. It 
would be enough sight worse if she had no place at all 
to work. The child keeps me company, and Susie 
places my drink on the stand, and the gruel for my food 
where I can reach it. She is not gone all day, so I do 
very well after all. 

“ Susie has two fine boys. They are off at sea now. 
We thought if worst come to worst, it was better for ’em 
to drown in salt water instead of whiskey, an’ not to 
drown the soul with the body. Susie had druther trust 
’em on the great deep with God, than ter trust ’em here 
with her husband.” 

“ Susie is right,” said Margaret pityingly. I am 
very sorry for you all. I hope that God may yet bring 
light out of this great darkness.” 

‘‘ He brought light when He sent you here. Your 
words an’ deeds have cheered an’ comforted me, as 
nothin’ else has in many a day. I was feeling dreadful 
down, an’ dispairin’. It seemed that prayer didn’t go 
no higher’n my head, an’ Satan was tollin’ me that it 
wasn’t no use prayin’. He was trying ter make me 
b’l’eve that God didn’t notice some folks, no more’n 
some folks don’t notice one another; particularly when 
they are poor an’ sorrowful, like we have allers been. 

I had a drunken husband, too, so it has been a stony 
path all the way through.” 

Before Margaret could reply, there was a gentle rap 
on the door, and as she opened it, her husband stood 


188 


GLENWOOD. 


smiling his own welcome, waiting to be bidden to enter. 
But instead of that, with a frightened look, Margaret 
asked if anything had happened at home. 

“ I^othing at all. Did you think that your coming 
away for a short time would throw the machinery out 
of gear, at Glenwood ? ” he asked with a smile. We 
became uneasy for fear you had not found the right 
way through the woods. They are long and narrow. If 
you had turned your course a little, you would have 
gone lengthwise and could not have reached the end of 
them yet. I overheard Pete lamenting because he had 
not asked to accompany you, and Dinah told him that 
she had been having the skeers, ever since you had left 
the house. Mother felt uneasy also. I was taken with 
the same ailment, so I told her I would bring a pail 
of milk for company and look after your welfare, and 
the welfare of this sick one.” 

My coming did throw things a little out of gear at 
Glenwood, after all,” said Margaret, smiling as she in- 
vited him in. He had to bend his tall head as he en- 
tered the door, and then, with pleasant and sympathetic 
words to Mrs. Blair, he presented the milk, while he 
shook hands with her, like a long-time friend. 

It’s a shame that I have let your wife do so many 
things for me.” 

Ho, Mrs. Blair, that is what she came for. I see 
by her looks, that she has found pleasure in doing it. 
I shall find pleasure also, in using the axe that I see 
there in the corner of the fireplace. I can cut wood 
with as rapid strokes as the Premier of England ever 
did, if the axe is all right. If not, I will make it so.” 

“Do,” said Margaret, “while I read a chapter for 
Mrs. Blair if she would like to hear it. God loves to 
have us bring our trouble to Him.” 


GLENWOOD. 


189 


I will thank you to do it,” was the eager reply. 
“ I know that He sent both of you here. Things looked 
darker’n ever. I a’most thought that God didn’t care 
for us. Old as I be, I had been cryin’. It seemed so 
hard to lie here sick, when I orter be at work ; though I 
don’t s’pose sickness is easy for anybody. It’s dreadful 
ter be sick, anyway.” 

“ Our Heavenly Father cares all the more for us 
when we are sick and sorrowful,” was Margaret’s sooth- 
ing reply. “ He may hide His face while He sends 
sorrow to bring us closer to Him, that it may teach us 
to lean the heavier on the Almighty arm.” 

While Margaret read one of the most comforting 
chapters, she could hear the axe flying, and knew that 
the wood was piling up under the strokes of the arm 
that knew how to wield it with a will, in doing a good 
deed for another. He had to gather the wood from the 
forest near by, before he could cut it, and when he had 
done, Margaret handed him the pail to bring water 
from the spring for the weary woman who would soon 
be home from her hard day’s work. 

Sympathy and kindness had so brightened Mrs. Blair, 
that her heart and pulse began to beat with a stronger 
and healthier tone. Life seemed to her still worth liv- 

Pete was on hand with a frightened look in his great 
black eyes which turned into smiles, as he said: I 
fought like de res’ ob de folks, dat Missy Marg’ret was 
loss’d, an’ Marser Glenwood was spen’in, all dis time 
lookin’ fur her, an’ we was all ob us so skeered, we 
wanted ter cry.” 

He was sent immediately home to say that they were 
both safe, and was urged to make haste before Dinah 


190 


GLENWOOD. 


would liave to come after him, and thus oblige Mrs. 
Glenwood to come and look after them all. 

Pete grinned and bowed his head, and was quickly 
flying toward home, as fast as his clumsy feet could 
carry him. He was happy to think that Glenwood’s 
new treasure was safe, and would soon return to them. 

Ralph Glenwood came in to speak to Mrs. Blair of 
something that had entered his mind as he passed 
through her woods, hack of the lowly little home, when 
he came to look after Margaret.' He thought it might 
give aid to the two lone women who had borne each 
other’s burdens, often with aching and despairing hearts. 
His fine nature could realize it all, and think how dark 
it must have been in the home of sickness and sorrow. 
He knew how difficult it is to aid a drunkard’s family 
without helping him along in his sin, leaving him to 
think that he need do nothing at all towards family 
support. 

He was mindful that the winter was near, with no 
provision for it in grain-bins, nor money, and with only 
the labor of that one slender woman to meet it. He 
knew that she could not wash every day, and was aware 
that the money did not always come at the time the 
work was finished, and the want of bread was often 
pressing, though it was borne in uncomplaining silence 
that was pitiful to think of in any case. 

“ I have been meditating on something for your 
benefit, Mrs. Blair,” he said, as he came to the bed- 
side. “ I am sure that it will be a lasting good to you 
for the remainder of life, even though you might live 
for many years. My mind was busy with it, as I came 
through your six-acre wood-lot. I noticed the fine 
growth of timber; and now is the time you want the 
benefit of it, if ever.” 


GLENWOOD. 


191 


The wan face was lifted with eager and almost breath- 
less interest, as she replied while a cloud passed over her 
face, saddening it pitifully: 

“ Yes, Mr. Glenwood, but I had a drunken husband, 
and Susie has one. He would never cut the wood, if 
we died for the want of the money it would bring. I 
had rather it would stand forever, than to have a 
drunkard use it up in drink, as Susie’s husband would 
do, if he could get it for himself.” 

You are right in that,” was the reply, “ but I can 
manage it so that no one can get the first farthing, since 
you hold the deed, and you can rest on that assurance 
without fear. The proceeds are yours; so take the 
good of it, and live as long as you can. Your poor 
daughter can take life easier then, and not wear herself 
out so fast, and can he at home with you. Her hus^ 
band brings her trouble enough, I have no doubt.” 

But I hain’t got no one to cut the wood, nor not 
a cent to pay any one for doing it,” was the despondent 
reply. 

‘‘ Hever mind that. I took it all into account. A 
friend in need is a friend indeed. I will be that friend 
to you, if you will permit me,” said Kalph Glenwood, 
his face aglow with the pleasure of doing a kindly deed. 
“ I will hire the help to cut the wood, and will advance 
the money to pay for it till the wood is sold. It can be 
done more cheaply now that work is scarce, and so many 
men are out of employment for the winter. Luke 
Grimes is a strong and capable workman, and will work 
cheap. He will be glad of the job, I am sure, and will 
go at it at once, if we decide on it. His time in the 
brick-yard is over till spring. He says he would rather 
have work at small pay than to be idle and loaf around, 
and that if a man will give him work by the job, or by 


192 


GLENWOOD. 


the piece, even if the price is low, he will make it up by 
extra hard blows, and the longest kind of hours. 

“ I will see that the wood is measured and piled in 
salable cords, and will find a market for it, when it is 
seasoned and in a right condition to sell. I have just 
sold fifteen cords of dry wood at Perkins’ and Sons’ 
woodyard in the village. I will engage yours at the 
best price possible, and will draw up and sign writings 
that will make it out of the question for your son-in- 
law to interfere, or get anything from it, unless you give 
it from your own hand, which I should advise you not to 
do. It can be known that I have taken the contract, to 
have the wood cut and sold, and he dare not meddle 
with it. The less money the better, in his case, as it is 
only a damage to body and soul.” 

But where are you to get your pay for all your 
trouble ? ” was the puzzled inquiry. 

“ I do a kindness for the pleasure of it, and because it 
is right. I take no other pay, in such cases. I read in 
the Book of all others the Divine command, ^ Bear ye 
one another’s burdens.’ ” 

Margaret’s tear-wet eyes had been resting on him in 
worshiping love and admiration. She thought that no 
human face was ever so expressive of nobility of soul 
as his, nor so grand in its fine delineation of perfect 
manhood. The tears in her eyes were of joy for the 
aged sufferer to whom this kindness was offered. 

There was no doubting Ralph Glenwood’s honesty or 
honor. Both were as dear to him as life itself, and even 
more so. Mrs. Blair knew it, and had no fear concern- 
ing his offer for her good. She knew that he would do 
just as he had said, without a thought of any profit 
that could find its way into his hands, except as his 
mind reverted to the text : “ Inasmuch as ye have done 


GLENWOOD. 193 

it unto one of the least of these, ye have done it unto 
Me.” 

His word was his law, next to the law of God. The 
poor woman was so confused and bewildered, she did not 
know how to answer him. It was difficult for her to 
take in the idea that any real good could be in store 
for her, whom no one cared for, but Susie. Her face 
wore a glad and puzzled expression, as she wondered if 
it were not too good to be true. Her poor, plain life 
of sorrow and toil, had had so little to brighten or 
gladden it, that it did not seem possible that any lasting 
good could come at that late day. 

“ How would I ever get the wood draw’d, if it was 
cut an’ ready to be sold ? ” she asked doubtfully. “ I 
h ain’t got a cent in the world, an’ never expected ter 
have again, since I can’t work an’ earn it.” 

“ You will not need to work ; so give yourself no un- 
easiness about that. I am sure that amid our people in 
this neighborhood, as noble hearts can be found, and as 
many good and kindly souls as in any other community 
where they are willing to turn out and help a widow, or 
any other neighbor, when in trouble, free of cost, as 
they do in many other places. The distance is short, 
and if it were not, I am confident they would do it, and 
feel the better at heart for the transaction. I will 
promise you men and teams for four good loads myself, 
or more, if need be.” 

This was too much for the sick heart to hold. It 
brimmed over, and the poor wrinkled hands were raised 
to cover the tear-wet face, as she closed the eyes that had 
shed but few such drops in all her work-day life. She 
tried to sob out her thanks, but her voice failed her. 

Margaret through her own tears told her that no 
thanks were needed. 


194 


GLENWOOD. 


“ Rest assured,” said Ralph Glenwood, “ that the 
widow’s God will not forsake you, now that age and 
sickness have come upon you. Trust Him, and be of 
good cheer.” 

Thinking that his presence might prove embarrassing 
to Mrs. Blair, now that she was so overcome with emo- 
tion, he again took the axe and went out to the chopping 
block to use it. Margaret stepped to the stove to look 
after the fire, as the day was growing cooler, making it 
necessary to keep a gentle degree of warmth to prevent 
the sick one from taking cold. 

She returned to the bed, and again shook up the pil- 
lows and arranged the bed-clothing, while at the same 
time she was speaking cheering and comforting words, 
that fell like healing balm on the heart that had felt the 
frosts of sorrow and the chill of many winters. 

Susie rushed into the room in frightened haste. She 
had been obliged to overstay her time, two or three 
hours, and had felt anxious about her mother and the 
little child. She bowed low to Margaret, and hastened 
to explain to Mrs. Blair the cause of her protracted 
stay. 

There was sickness in the family where she worked, 
and they had insisted on her staying longer. When at 
last she broke away to come to her own, they were angry, 
and said if she were not more willing to oblige, they 
would employ some one else. 

“ I have been foolish enough to cry over it, on the 
way home, but don’t you worry, mother,” she said, 
caressing the furrowed brow, “ I would not leave you 
any longer than I could help. If John would only work 
for our support, like other men, I need not leave you at 
all. But we shan’t starve, even if they do cut me off. 
I have one place that will hold good yet, and that will 


GLENWOOD. 


195 


buy tea, sugar and crackers for you, with a bit of butter 
and something else that will help your appetite. We 
have a nice lot of potatoes and other vegetables in the 
cellar. I can make a good meal any time on potatoes 
and salt. Com meal is cheap, and makes many kinds 
of good food, if a little skimmed milk can be had to go 
with it, once in a while. Baby and I will do well on it, 
so have no fears. God has made his best promises to 
the widow and to those who are in trouble.” 

“ Susie, child ; what made you cry ? ” asked the 
mother. Don’t you see who has come ? The Lord has 
done just what you said He would. He has sent help, 
an’ you must bless Him with me, all the days of your 
life. The wood is going to be cut an’ sold, an’ we 
sha’n’t want for food nor clothing, if you do lose a place 
to wash. The best man in the world is goin’ to tend to 
it.” 

“ That is Mr. Ealph Glenwood,” said Susie. “ Then 
this lady is his wife, and I bless her for coming to see 
you.” She turned to Margaret and reached out her 
hand with glad tears in her eyes, which were reverently 
lifted to the sweet face, radiant with joy over the 
pretty scene of a daughter’s love and devotion to a sick 
and aged mother. 

Ealph Glenwood entered the room and placed the axe 
in the corner, after using it a half hour longer for the 
benefit of the woodpile. 

As he turned, he politely greeted Susie, and then 
went to her mother, telling her that she could take as 
much time as she wished to think the matter over, adding 
that he would call again and hear her decision, and 
would draw up and sign writings to prevent meddling. 

“ I will advance money for your needs, till the wood 


196 


GLENWOOD. 


is sold, and if you are not ready to decide in a few 
days, take longer/^ 

I have decided now,” was the eager reply, “ and 
thank you more than I can tell you.” 

“ Would you like to have me engage Luke Grimes, or 
would you prefer to wait till I see you again ? ” 

“ Engage him, please, as soon as you can. I am 
afraid it won’t seem real till I hear the axe going 
through the timber.” 

I will do as you wish, and will go through your 
woods again and examine the trees, and report myself 
here on Wednesday. I would advise you to have three 
or four acres cut off this winter, leaving a grove near 
the house to give shelter from cutting winds, and to be 
a thing of beauty. In your case, I do not think I would 
let it grow up again. Your German neighbor will no 
doubt be glad to break it up for you, and plant it on 
shares, year after year, so it will be yielding you some- 
thing towards your support; but in that case, some of 
the small chestnut timber will have to be reserved for 
rails to fence it with. I would have it so as to get a 
view from the house, to keep some oversight over it, 
and see that it is safe from intrusion when the crops 
are planted.” 

With a husky voice Mrs. Blair again tried to express 
her thanks, but failed. Susie could do no better. She 
grasped the child in her arms, and went with it to the 
window to hide her tears on its bosom, while the baby 
eyes looked wonderingly at her in mute sympathy. 

It seems too good to be true, even yet,” said Mrs. 
Blair. “ Poor Susie needn’t cry because she lost a 
place to do a weekly washing. We can live on hope till 
the wood is ready to sell. I know we can.” 

The weather is getting colder, and you ought not to 


GLENWOOD. 


197 


be left so long alone,” said Margaret. “ Though your 
airtight stove holds fire well, it will not last long enough 
to make it comfortable all the time your daughter is 
away. When Susie has to go, some of us must come 
over and look after you, and see to the fire, till you are 
able to be up and around again.” 

I couldn’t have any of you be to all that trouble 
for me. I feel like a new bein’ already. It is just as 
Susie read out of the Bible, about a cheerful face, or 
the face of a friend that doeth good like a medicine. I 
hain’t never had no medicine that ever done me the good 
that your cornin’ has to-day. Earth seems a’most like 
heaven already,” and the misty eyes looked into Ralph 
Glen wood’s face, and then at Margaret, as if she could 
never turn them elsewhere. 

Remember, I will see Luke Grimes, and report to 
you on Wednesday, unless business or something else 
should prevent. In that case look for me Thursday 
morning.” 

Ralph Glenwood extended his hand and bade her 
hope on, and with similar words to Susie, Margaret took 
kindly leave also, with her own heart singing for joy 
over the burdens that had been lightened, and the weary 
souls that had beeen cheered and comforted. 

With the promise to come again soon, Ralph Glen- 
wood and Margaret went joyfully to their own home, 
more in love with each other than ever. 

When Wednesday morning came,, the call was re- 
peated, Ralph Glenwood with a pail of milk and the 
written agreement in hand, and Margaret with fruit, 
flowers and nourishing food and delicacies for the sick 
one’s appetite. 

Luke Grimes strode on in advance, with his axe over 
his shoulder, pleasantly meditating on the destruction of 


198 


GLENWOOD. 


the forests, as he said it would give him something to 
do to keep him out of mischief. 

When they arrived at the little cot, Luke waited at 
the door till the interview with Mrs. Blair should em- 
power Ralph Glenwood to designate where he was to 
begin work, and what price per cord, and how large a 
grove he was to leave near the house. 

It took but a moment to sign the papers, and a brief 
space of time for conversation, and Luke’s axe was set 
at work, felling the monarchs of the forest that would 
never sing again the sweet songs of Nature in her 
peaceful moods, nor shout their grand anthems amid the 
storm and tempests. 

The axe was soon in motion with the automatic preci- 
sion of machinery, and then Ralph Glenwood returned 
to the little cottage to finish talking over the matter in 
hand in its best bearings for Mrs. Blair’s benefit. 

She had improved much in four days. Her face and 
Susie’s were bright with hope. Margaret’s conversation 
was making them beam still brighter, while the morn- 
ing sun looked in, as if it had come to bless them with 
a new benediction of peace and gladness. 

“ I have spent some little time looking through your 
woods, Mrs. Blair, and have marked about eighty trees 
which are really too fine to be sacrificed as fuel, and 
there may be still more. They will make such large, 
straight sticks of timber, it seems wrong to cut them 
down, unless they can be used for some more lasting 
purpose. It is well, in most cases, to use thought in 
more than one direction. 

“ The eighty trees ought to bring you two hundred 
dollars for cabinet work, if we can strike the right party, 
and that is a thing I shall try for,” said the tall, grave 
speaker, with a thoughtful look, as if it were his own 


GLENWOOD. 


199 


individual interest that he was weighing with so much 
care and solicitude. “ The limbs of the trees can go in 
with the cord-wood, and will greatly increase the 
amount.’^ 

Mrs. Blair’s eyes opened wide with astonishment. 
Two hundred dollars looked like a fortune to her in 
their poverty and need. She had seen but little money 
in all her life. 

About half of the marked trees are maple and oak. 
I will go to the chair factory and try to dispose of them 
there. If I am successful, they will bring much more 
than the pine and hemlock. 

“ My heart is so full, it is almost bursting,” said 
Susie, and I know mother’s is too.” She tried to 
express her thanks, and managed to say that she did not 
know words enough. 

“ It ain’t no use to try, Susie,” said Mrs. Blair. 

We can’t do it.” 

Ralph Glenwood proceeded to count out the money he 
had promised to advance for their present needs, but 
Mrs. Blair put in a protest. 

“ Ko, no!” she said, not one cent;” and Susie 
echoed it with even deeper earnestness, if possible. 
“ We don’t need it. We feel rich enough to live on 
nothing but faith, don’t we, Susie ? ” 

“ Yes, mother, anything but debt. I have two dol- 
lars coming to me, and the things your wife brought 
will help a good ways.” 

“ Yes, child,” said the mother. “ We owe a lifetime 
of thanks now, for all that both of you have done. We 
can’t do anything for pay, except to ask God to do it for 
us. I’m better now, and Susie has got back her other 
place to work, so that is three places. It’s light all along 
the way, except John’s being as he is. We never felt so 


200 


GLENWOOD. 


rich before in all our lives. When we are in need of a 
dollar, we can come for it. We wouldn’t dare to keep 
even that much in the house, on account of John. We 
will be just as much obliged if you will let us come in 
that way. If we had money in the house we could not 
rest. J ohn would raise his master till he got it, unless 
we could tell him that we hadn’t any, and we won’t lie.” 

“ I see that it is best, as you say. Only don’t fail 
to come as you need it,” said Margaret sympatheti- 
cally. 

“ I^’o,” replied Mrs. Blair, it is good to feel that we 
can come. It strengthens me to know that we will have 
something ahead to keep our hearts from sinking. Wo- 
men are such helpless creeters about providin’ fur them- 
selves, unless they have some near chance for work.” 

I feel years’ younger,” said Susie. But a sigh fol- 
lowed the words. They all knew it was for the hus- 
band ; lost to himself and to the world. 

The sunshine on the floor crept to where Ralph Glen- 
wood was standing, and touched his feet as if to bless 
him. It was already lighting up Margaret’s bronze 
hair into ripples of gold. Susie was looking at her, 
thinking how beautiful she was, with her fair, sweet 
face, and those wonderful eyes, and that flgure of match- 
less grace and symmetry. 

Luke Grimes stepped to the door to say that if he 
could have the whole job, he would do it ten cents less on 
the cord. 

‘‘ You certainly have my permission, if Mrs. Blair 
will give hers, only be as easy as you can, always, where 
a woman is concerned, unless she has abundant means to 
pay with. That is one evidence of manliness,” said 
Ralph Glenwood. “ They have even more needs than 


GLENWOOD. 201 

men, and less strength, and few opportunities of earn- 
ing anything.’^ 

“ Thank you for tollin’ me that much of good man- 
ners. It stands ter reason, an’ has a better look on the 
face of it, thought no one has ever teached me anything 
like that before. I won’t forgit it, now that I do know 
it, an’ to put the thing in practice. I’ll clip into the top- 
wood with my axe, an’ often cut stove lengths fur ’em, 
an’ not a cent of charge fur it, see if I don’t,” and his 
promise was well fulfilled. 

There was a laugh at the way he looked and em- 
phasized his words, as if new light had broken into his 
obtuse mind in the way of politeness, kindness and com- 
mon courtesy. 

Mrs. Blair readily consented to the ten per cent, re- 
duction on the whole job, as if she were afraid the offer 
would be withdrawn. 

“ Thank you, again,” he said. How I know how I 
can build my calkellations, if you an’ Glenwood says 
so.” Then bowing low, he wiped his damp brow and 
was gone. 

Margaret thought the strokes fell harder and stronger 
after that, as if greater courage nerved the arm, though 
the blows did not lack force nor energy from the begin- 
ning. 

Margaret promised to call often, which she did, with 
cheering words and kindly aid in many directions. She 
tried to reach the heart of the besotted husband, but it 
was too late. He was lost to all reason, and humanly 
speaking, was beyond earthly hope. 

Pete was at times sent with milk and other things, 
and was told to stay and make good use of an hour or 
two, chopping wood. Dinah always declared that he 
would use his tongue more than the axe, if she was not 


202 


GLENWOOD. 


there to boost him along.” She sometimes went with 
her sewing in the afternoon, when her work was done, 
and she made sure that Pete did not go for nothing. 
He had to acquit himself creditably in order to go 
again. 

Mrs. Blair improved rapidly. Life looked new to 
her with the hope and help that had come to cheer her. 

Margaret took Pete with her to assist in sewing car- 
pet rags, under her supervision. Her own needle flew 
in the same work, with Susie’s big apron on her lap, and 
Susie herself cutting them with all her might. Mrs. 
Blair was much better, and was plying her needle also, 
while she told them incidents of times long past. The 
rags for a part of the carpet had long been finished, and 
had been laid aside until more could he obtained, which 
Mrs. Glenwood had now supplied. 

All were anxious to have it woven before the weather 
should become colder; so even Dinah sewed a number 
of balls, in her spare time at home, which made it a car- 
pet of good wishes, with many hands at work at it, till 
it was finished. It was done and put down in the liv- 
ing room and bedroom before the first snow fell. It was 
substantial and neat, and added much to the comfort 
of the little home 

Mrs. Blair and Susie had never looked forward to the 
approach of winter with such dread enshrouding their 
hearts, as there was before Margaret came to them, but 
now it had vanished. 

They called Margaret the angel of Glenwood,” and 
Dinah said “ no other name was half fit enough for her.” 

Mrs. Blair was able to go out and walk a short dis- 
tance at a time before December, and declared that she 
felt almost young again. 

Ralph Glenwood sold two hundred dollars’ worth of 


GLENWOOD. 


m 


oak, cherry and maple timber to the chair factory, and 
Susie deposited the money in the savings bank, the day 
before Thanksgiving, which made it a Thanksgiving like 
nothing they had ever known. 

But it was not long before a shadow fell across the 
threshold, and their hearts grew faint within them. 
The drunken husband and father was brought home to 
die in torture from the demon that lurks in the poison 
of strong drink. Pie raved out his misspent life in the 
despair of delirium tremens. The ministrations of 
Ralph Glenwood and Margaret were again needed by 
the long-afflicted family for the care of the sick and the 
burial of their dead. 


204 


GLENWOOD. 


CHAPTER XVII. 

A PEESENT SENT TO MAEGAEEt’s OLD HOME. 

The box sent to Margaret’s old home was to arrive 
there for Thanksgiving — a day that received as little 
notice or honor as any other day of the year. It created 
no small consternation when a neighbor kindly brought 
it to Jacob Gray’s door. 

‘‘ Xo good ever comes ter this old cabin,” said Mrs. 
Gray, as her husband proceeded to knock off the cover 
with no light strokes, for even he was excited at the 
unexpected reception of he knew not what. 

Seven pair of eyes were looking on when thirty or 
more yards of gingham were lifted out, and about the 
same number of yards of calico and sheeting, as well as 
flannel. There was lawn for another summer, with the 
hope that it might give some thought of going to church, 
or at least, Sunday-school for the children. There were 
also pins, needles and thread, and remnants of dress 
goods, as well as clothing to be cut over for the boys. 

“ Bless her heart,” said Mrs. Gray, with a sob, as the 
two calico dresses were taken out that Margaret was to 
wear in the mill, and in a purse were the ten dollars 
which Margaret was to return after she had earned it, 
and there was something more, and with it, was folded 


GLENWOOD. 


205 


a slip of paper on which Jacob Gray read her marriage 
notice. 

A letter making the announcement had been writ- 
ten to the Clergyman and his wife sometime previous, 
and a lovely note of congratulations had been sent in 
return. 

“ I allowed that there warn’t nothin’ in that box but 
an infernal machine,” said Mrs. Gray ; “ but who’d a 
thought that any sich Thanksgivin’ could come to us.” 

She could not rest till she had told far and near what 
Margaret had sent them. She bestowed any amount of 
praise on her good sense in “ stickin’ out ag’in marryin’ 
any common feller, an’ waitin’ till she could marry 
somebody as was somebody. Margaret ain’t nobody’s 
fool, if she didn’t marry Reube Brown, nor t’other 
feller, as we wanted her to,” was her oft-repeated re- 
mark to Margaret’s father. 

That Glenwood must have suthin’ in the shape of 
money, an’ he ain’t stingy, or she couldn’t a sent all 
them things to us. It’s mor’n I ever expected ter see, 
as long as my name is Miss’ Gray. I hain’t never seen 
thirty yards of anything ever come inter the house 
since I came inter it.” 

“ What do you ’spect your name is goin’ ter be after 
that? And when do you calk’erlate I’m goin’ to step 
out and leave you a bloomin’ widow with a chance for 
another name ? ” was the answering growl of her hus- 
band. 

Mrs. Gray pretended not to hear the remark. Her 
mind was too full of thankful pride to care for any- 
thing he might say. She went from one heavy piece of 
goods to another, and lifted them in turn, and felt of 
them, and even smelt of them, and talked over them to 
the children, telling them how proud and rich she felt. 


206 


GLENWOOD. 


“ It’s a dreadful good thing that she didn’t have that 
Reube Brown. She wouldn’t a had a red cent fur her- 
self in all her life, nor fur none of the rest on us, 
either. 

I wanted her to marry a rich man, an’ I was bound 
ter have it so. I fit fur it, until she got out of my 
sight. I hev seen enough of pizen poverty fur bein’ a 
fool, an’ marryin’ nothin’ but shiftlessness an’ rags.” 

“ I s’pose she has got some fancy pieces that ow’s 
mor’n one tailor bill. He had her send that box of 
stuff here just to make a splurge, and try to pretend 
that he is more than he really is, or ever will be,” said 
J acob Gray with a sneer. 

“ She sent his picture and hers to the minister’s 
folks, but I wouldn’t go two steps to see it, if that Glen- 
wood has got such a lordly look as if he was more than 
a king. He will turn out all chaff yet, like many 
others who can make a show-off.” 

“ Marg’et’s mother married the chaff,” said Mrs. 
Gray, “ but you won’t catch her daughter puttin’ her 
head inter that kind of a noose. I don’t ’spose she has 
married fur money neither. She is too high-minded 
for that. She wouldn’t had the great Mogul himself, 
if she didn’t love him. You’ll find that grand looks, 
nor fine clothes didn’t ketch her, nor draw her inter 
married blessedness. The words sound so pooty, I 
like ter say ’em over ter myself, when I don’t have you 
ter say ’em to,” said Mrs. Gray, ironically. 

She had no chance to say more. The door banged 
with a “ wooden oath,” as it has been aptly termed, 
and she saw him no more till dinner was ready. Even 
then, he would not speak, nor look up from his plate 
while eating, nor afterwards; but his wife cared as 
little for it as she did for the wind howling down the 


GLENWOOD. 


207 


old stone chimney, which was anything but an orna- 
mental piece of workmanship. It seemed never to have 
found out what it was made for, as the smoke did not 
always know where to go, to get out of the snarling dis- 
cord within — which did not help the peppery temper of 
Mrs. Gray. Her husband was satisfied with cursing 
the chimney, instead of building a new one, and his 
wife was left to scold and worry over it, to her heart’s 
content. 

The first two weeks of December passed in a vary- 
ing mood of storminess and gentleness, as if Nature 
had not yet made up her mind to be hard and cold, 
after the year’s brightness and beauty — but it settled 
down at last into winter, with no remorse or compunc- 
tions for severity, since the earth was shorn of its 
glory, with nothing left but verdureless fields and 
naked trees, and a chill and shivering atmosphere 
brooding over it all. The frost sealed up the babbling 
rills, which underneath were still singing as merrily as 
when the birds sang with them, and winter was afar 
off. The fruitful earth had grown bare and cold, and 
the feeble sunbeams brought no responsive throb to its 
hardened bosom. Then, as if to hide its dreariness, 
the snow wrapped it in a mantle of purity, and bade it 
rest till the resurrection of another springtime. 


208 


GLENWOOD. 


CHAPTER XVIIL 

A CHEISTMAS PRESENT AT THE PARSONAGE. 

Glenwood had not seen such a Thanksgiving and 
Christmas in many years. Mother and son, besides all 
other blessings, gave continued thanks for the gift of 
Margaret, while she gave constant thanks for more 
blessings than she had ever expected to receive, all her 
life through. 

A few days before Christmas, a box was prepared 
and sent to the Minister and his wife, for a Christmas 
gift from Margaret and her husband. 

There was an elegant shawl, a dress pattern of satin, 
and one of soft brown merino, selected for being warm 
and serviceable. When Margaret’s gifts were ready, 
including many other useful things, her husband 
handed her ten five-dollar bank notes, to pin on the 
shawl, as extra figures, while he pinned on ten more. 
He also sent a note of Christmas greeting — explaining 
that the money was a wedding fee, held back, till it 
might also serve as a Christmas present. 

‘‘ Though you did not perform the marriage cere- 
mony,” he said, “ I believe that your prayers and Mrs. 
Alverton’s sent Margaret to me — or, in other words, 
touched a spring in the order of God’s providence which 


GLENWOOD. 


209 


caused her to love and accept me, with my love 
and protection for the journey of life. Please accept 
my thanks, as well as hers, for your kindness to her 
through the dark years of her girlhood.” 

It would have been a picture for an artist — the 
group over that box, in the little out-of-the-way parson- 
age, on Christmas eve. There was an empty purse, and 
a scantily supplied larder, while many things were 
needed for the winter, with no way of supplying them. 

The open Bible was on the stand where the Minister 
had been reading with undimmed faith and trust in 
God. Baby Margaret was in the cradle, sleeping the 
soft sleep of infancy, blissfully unconscious of life’s 
cares and sorrows. The two little boys stood looking 
on, in amazed wonder, as the wife and mother -bowed 
her head over the gifts with thankful tears of joy, and 
the Minister said with a choked voice : “ Let us pray.” 

Sublimely beautiful was the prayer of gratitude and 
thanksgiving, blended with pleading entreaties for 
blessings to be showered upon the home and hearts at 
Glenwood — while the angel choir sang again, “ Peace 
on earth, good will towards men.” 

At Glenwood the days glided joyfully away. !N’ew 
Year’s passed like Christmas, with rejoicing for the 
old year that had brought so much good, and for the 
New Year which was smiling upon them, full of prom- 
ise. 

There was a twelfth-night party at Major Shirling’s, 
given in honor of Ealph Glenwood and his bride. 
Many noble men and fair women were present ; but it 
was said that the newly-wedded pair surpassed them all. 

‘‘ I say. Sis,” said Dick Shirling, “ Ealph Glenwood 
knows a fine woman when he sees one, as well as he 
knows the points of thoroughbred stock. That is why 


210 


GLENWOOD. 


he chose that beautiful creature for a wife, instead of 
you, my precious sister.” 

There was an angry flash, and a slap of May Shir- 
ling’s fan on the blonde head, with a quick retort : “ I 
will go and tell mamma how you insult me with your 
rude remarks, as if I wanted Ralph Glenwood, or cared 
for him in any way ! ” and the mother was called to 
make peace between daughter and son. 

“ Well, isn’t it so, mother ? Was there ever a lovelier 
specimen of womanhood ? ” 

“ She is as you say, truly lovely, my son,” said the 
amiable lady ; “ but why could you not have spoken of 
her in a different way to your sister ? ” 

“ Forgive me, mother, if I have done wrong ; but 
May has made so many spiteful remarks in regard to 
Ralph Glenwood’s bride, ever since they were married, 
that I am tired of hearing it; and it drew out that 
kind of reply before I was aware of how it would 
sound.” 

“ Yes,” retorted his sister, “ Dick is in love with her 
himself, if she is married.’^ 

“ Her being married is all that saves me, that is a 
fact ; for I should try my hand, if she were not the wife 
of a better and nobler man than I am, though I glory 
in her good fortune.” 

The mother’s soft hand caressed the curly head of 
her son, while longing to kiss him for his generous 
frankness of nature that held no malice, envy, or un- 
charitableness towards others, but gave to each his due, 
even though he disparaged himself in doing it. 

You light-haired and light-eyed men show no sense 
at all, where a dark-eyed woman is concerned,” said 
his sister in no gentle tones. For my part I see no 
beauty in them. 


GLENWOOD. 


211 


“ You need not be picking at them, as you have al- 
ways done, all your life. I can tell you women-folks 
one thing, that you lose weight with the men, every 
time you attempt it. We all look on it as a mean and 
unjust spirit of envy; and you are marked down on the 
thermometer of some one’s estimation every time you 
do it. Whether you like dark hair and dark eyes or 
not, if any man ever chooses you for a wife, my sister, 
it will be a man with just those accompaniments and 
adornments; and in addition to that, he will most 
likely have the swarthy complexion of a Spaniard. 
They like women of your type, provided a gentle dis- 
position goes with it.” 

“ I suppose you will some day bring home an Egyp- 
tian Cleopatra, whom I shall hate most heartily be- 
forehand, and shall wish her in the bottom of the sea.” 

“ No fear of that, my amiable sister; yet I feel sure 
that if I ever marry, it will be a lovely brunette, or a 
woman of the type of Margaret Glenwood. That would 
be my choice ; but I shall never bring her here for you 
to insult and ill-treat.’ 

“ Glad to hear it,” was the response. “ If you are so 
in love with Ealph Glenwood’s wife that you want one 
just like her, go and ask her to dance with you, and be 
off, so that I can have a chance. No one will ask me 
with you hanging around all the time.” 

Dick Skirling bowed low to his sister, with a teasing, 
good-natured smile, and went to do her bidding, and 
was graciously accepted for the next set. 

May Shirling was piqued because the evening was 
far spent, and Ealph Glenwood had not asked her to 
dance. 

He had danced but twice, and both times with mar- 
ried ladies, one of whom was May Shirling’s sweet 


212 


GLENWOOD. 


and lovely mother. It seemed to distress May, who 
noticed that his face looked unspeakably happy, though 
he had not danced much, nor with the young ladies at 
all. 

I wonder whether Ralph Glenwood’s precious 
wife has him so far under her thumb that he thinks 
she would be jealous if he danced with any of the 
young girls ? ” said May to her mother. It would not 
have been more than my due, as the daughter of the 
house, if he had danced with me.” 

“ His dancing with me was sufficient for the re- 
quirements of etiquette, my dear. He is too grave and 
staid to care much for dancing. You know he never 
did care for it for himself, though he loved to see others 
in graceful motion. 

“ It is not to be wondered at that he has danced 
little, with the death of their well-beloved ones, and 
only two of the family left to deplore their loss. It has 
always saddened me to think of it.” 

“ People say that he livens up wonderfully in his 
wife’s presence,” said May. 

Better that, than to see him give his finest atten- 
tions to other women, and be neglectful of her. You 
would not like to see your father do it.” 

It may be that the splendor of those lovely eyes 
has thawed him out. People rave so over their won- 
derful beauty,” was May’s malicious remark. 

“ Never mind, my daughter,” was the gentle re- 
sponse. “ You have no lack of love, and some one will 
probably think as much of you, some time. As long 
as there are dark-eyed men, blonde women will not go 
out of fashion, nor be unsought nor uncared for. I 
was never a beauty, but see how your papa has always 
loved and cared for me.” 


GLENWOOD. 213 

“ wonder! you are so sweet and gentle, he could 
not help it.” 

‘‘ Then cultivate those same qualities, my dear, and 
see if a blessing does not come with them.” 

“ I am spoiled by indulgence, so papa says ; and I 
hear others say it of me. Some speak of it with a tone 
of contempt ; others, as if I were crippled for life.” 

“ Then you should see your faults and correct them. 
The servant who was given but one talent, was cursed 
for not using and improving that one. You surely 
have more than that. Nature did not scrimp you in 
her gifts, in the first place ; so see to it, that you do not 
lose them from careless neglect.” 

Dick made his appearance, and no more was said on 
the subject. They knew his teasing propensities. He 
always loved to tease May, her nature was so small, it 
was a marvel to him. It amused his fun-loving dispo- 
sition, as much as his teasing vexed and annoyed her. 

“ Mrs. Glenwood is so light and graceful in her 
movements, it is a great pleasure to dance with her,” 
said Dick, looking provokingly at his sister. 

“ She is very graceful indeed,” replied his mother. 

“ Really, I wonder where Glenwood found her,” he 
said thoughtfully. “ She looks like a water-lily from 
some clear mountain lake, and as if she had never felt 
a breath of the false conventionalities of life. I con- 
fess to a small pang of envy, as I wish him joy. I 
would willingly wait as long and late in life as he has, 
if I could find her counterpart to reward me at last.” 

“ I am sick of your soft nonsense,” said May, as she 
twisted herself angrily away from him. 

She knew that Dick was in earnest in all he said in 
regard to Ralph Glenwood’s bride, which made it the 
more irritating. 


214 


GLENWOOD. 


It distressed her jealous nature to have even her 
brother think that any one could be prettier than she, 
•when in reality she was far from, being a beauty, and 
was well conscious of the fact. 

She was appeased, however, by the approach of a 
young southerner, dark as a Spanish Don, who asked 
her to dance, and soon she was drifting away to the 
music of a dreamy waltz, though more than once she 
forgot her step in trying to detect some false move in 
Margaret, who was dancing in the same set with her, 
but the young wife was happily unconscious of it all. 

“Dese is great times,” said Dinah the following 
morning. “ Dar was weddin’ one momph, T’anksgivin’ 
nudder momph, Christmas next momph, an’ New 
Year’s next momph, an’ parties in between. I won’er 
what’ll come next ? Makes lots ob big times, all in a 
heap,” said the good soul to Mrs. Glenwood, with spark- 
ling eyes. “ I likes ter see it, an’ have a han’ in makin’ 
de good t’ings fur sich ’casions, but dat Pete is a puzzle- 
ment, no matter where I puts him. I s’pose he 
oughtener come in dis worl’, nohow. He ain’t foun’ 
out what he was made fur, an’ nobody else hain’t nuder, 
except ter be a trouble.” 

Dinah seemed to have the power of extending her- 
self in her capacity of doing and achieving great things 
on great occasions. She scorned the idea of not being 
sufficient for every emergency. Pete was her helper, 
but she was sure she could get along better without him. 
It was like striking a blow in her face, to ask her to 
accept of other help, it had been so long that she had 
been monarch of all she surveyed in the line of work. 

In Mrs. Glenwood’s crushing sorrow she had dis- 
missed all servants excepting Dinah, as she was not 


GLENWOOD. 


215 


able to look after them, and since then, Dinah wished 
to have no one but Pete. She was like a huge engine 
of many horse power; she put on the steam and the 
work was done. 


216 


GLENWOOD. 


CHAPTER XIX. 

TEOUBLE AT GLENWOOD. 

Aftee the holiday festivities, Mrs. Glenwood fear- 
ing that it might be dull for Margaret during the ab- 
sence of Ralph, whom business called from home for a 
few days, decided to invite some young lady to spend 
a week or two visiting them. 

Her choice fell upon May Shirling, who seemed 
pleased, and promptly accepted the invitation. She 
came armed with the softest of words and prettiest 
smiles, and brought with her her best garments and 
adornments, to try to convince Ralph Glenwood that 
he had made a mistake; or, if not quite that — to let 
him see that he had not married all the loveliness in 
the world, after all. But he remembered some of her 
attentions of old, which had been far too marked for 
his tastes, or his idea of ladylike deportment. 

“ Mother,” he said, when they were alone, I am 
sorry you invited that girl here. I am uneasy, and 
really distressed about it.” 

“ Why so, my son ? She always seemed to like it 
with us so well that I thought she would be pleasant 
company for Margaret.” 

“ I fear for the result, though Margaret is not of a 


GLENWOOD. 


217 


jealous disposition. I never liked May Shirting’s 
familiarity with me, finding so many excuses for com- 
ing closely in speaking, or calling my attention to any- 
thing, and displaying her white hand on my coat sleeve. 
It could not he otherwise than white — it does nothing. 
Her familiarity probably means no greater wrong than 
a challenge for a flirtation, but that is a game I never 
indulge in. She shows me the same distasteful atten- 
tions yet, and refers to drives and conversations we have 
had, as if there were a great deal in them for memory 
to dwell upon. Margaret’s innocent eyes look up into 
mine in questioning wonder, that makes me feel un- 
pleasantly, to say the least. 

“ I will take myself off earlier than I had at first 
intended. I shall feel obliged to stay away till May 
takes her departure, but it pains me to think of leav- 
ing you both so long. The invited guest does not like 
feminine society well enough to try to make amends 
for my absence. 

“ It distresses me to speak even this amount of 
truth against a woman. It is not in my nature to do 
it, nor to feel suspicious of their conduct.” 

“ I am aware of it, my son ; you have ever been 
chivalrous and lenient to my sex. But I am greatly 
troubled,” and a pained expression flitted over her 
face. “ I see no way to get out of it now. All that I 
can do is to guard Margaret with watchful vigilance.” 

Hext morning, Ealph Glen wood started on his jour- 
ney with a heavy heart, after exacting a loving prom- 
ise from Margaret to write every day, if possible. He 
secretly asked his mother to watch closely, and write 
often, and to note every change in Margaret, which 
might indicate that May Shirling was making mis- 
chief. 


218 GLENWOOD. 

Aunt Dinah was bristling with rage, and muttering 
to herself: 

ITo good is gwine ter come oh dat company, no- 
how I Dat gal wanted Marser Ralph herse’f. Dese ole 
eyes seed dat, plenty oh times. She hah tried hard ter 
git him dese four or five years, an’ she don’ feel 
pleased dat Missy Marg’et got him, an’ fin’ out dat 
she primped herself up fur miffin’. But Marser Ralph 
hab sense enough ter know what she was ’bout. He 
seen dat Missy Marg’et was wuff mor’n a hull worl’ 
full, like her. She is false as Delily, dat brought Sam- 
son ter his de’f wid trouble. I hab seen her pur’ roun’ 
Marser Ralph dis mornin’, an’ was tryin’ ter flirt wid 
him. I bleeb dat’s what dey call dat black art, when 
one woman wants ter git anoder one’s husbin, or feller 
away from her — or dar ’fections ; an’ dat’s de best part 
ob ’em, anyways. 

“ Missy Marg’et’s bright eyes will shed tears ’nough 
ober dis, afore dat gal gits trou’ wid her. She will 
pray, too, poor lamb, an’ pray wid a broken heart, an’ 
will hab need ’nough, ob God ter help her,” and Dinah 
emphasized her soliloquy with many angry slaps and 
pokes at the bread she was moulding into loaves. 

Margaret’s first letter was an index of her heart ; all 
love and solicitude for her husband. The second letter 
was much like it, but the third was simply a brief note, 
and a shade less fond in expression. The fourth letter 
went over the time of writing, and had less love in it, 
as if wounded, or fearful that it was not wanted. It 
was restrained in expression and diffident, and not at 
all like Margaret, where the feelings of her heart were 
concerned. 

The fifth and last letter was still longer in making 
its appearance. It sent a chill of apprehension and 


GLENWOOD. 


219 


dread through the great heart that throbbed only for 
her, and for his mother in loving loyalty and devotion 
that could not be expressed in words. 

Margaret wrote that she feared to weary him with 
too much talk of love, and she did not know ^what to 
write, as there was no news, and she could not think of 
anything that would be of interest to him. With this 
last letter came one from Mrs. Glenwood. 

“ Margaret tries to be pleasant and cheerful,” she 
said, “ but it is plain to be seen that she does it with an 
effort. She makes but a pretence of eating, and is not 
looking well. I have been greatly distressed and puz- 
zled, but I did not wish to alarm you needlessly. I 
waited to be sure whether anything was amiss. She 
often looks as if she had been weeping in secret, 
though pride tries to conceal the fact that her heart is 
ill at ease, if not sorely and deeply wounded. 

“ I thought at first that she was grieving over your 
absence. I know she has felt it deeply, but she has 
fortitude enough to not let it wear on her health, if 
nothing else were wrong. But now, I am satisfied that 
the cause lies deeper, and is something really serious. 
May Shirling acts to me, like one feeling a ‘ malicious 
triumph ^ over Margaret’s wounds. She evidently 
knows the cause, if I do not, and shows it cruelly, in 
careless song and flippant jest. She seems to feel en- 
tirely at home, and says nothing of going away, and 
evidently intends to remain until you return. So 
come at once, if business will permit, for I am greatly 
alarmed. 

“ Dinah is half wild with distress for Margaret, and 
is furious with rage against May. She is sure that she 
has been wounding our darling almost to her death. 

am satisfied that Margaret thoroughly dislikes 


220 


GLENWOOD. 


May, but she says nothing to any one, and treats her 
with gentle courtesy which I am sure our guest does 
not deserve.” 

It was even as Mrs. Glenwood had said. Margaret’s 
heart seemed mortally wounded. Her eyes were like 
shaded pools in the depths of the forest, looking dark 
and deep, with no sparkle nor brightness in them; but 
when Mrs. Glenwood addressed her, she would brighten 
up for a moment, and give a loving look or word, or a 
gentle caress if they were alone, and then, as if afraid 
of being questioned, she would be gone, almost as 
silently as a dream. 

In the course of a conversation one day. May Shir- 
ling, with the rare intuition of a shrewd woman, di- 
vined Margaret’s unhappiness. This knowledge gave 
her the opening for which she had long been looking. 

With a smile of triumph, and with a subtleness of in- 
sinuation which told more than words, she admitted that 
the reason for the fickleness of Ralph Glenwood’s char- 
acter might be found in the fact that he had been her 
lover for years ; that she would have been his wife long 
ago, had not Margaret’s baby face come between them. 

“ He is getting tired of you now,” said May, with a 
sinister expression, — “ you, with your sweet, simpering 
face and your prosy ways, and he is returning to me, 
the woman of his first choice. How can you expect to 
hold him against me,” and May Shirting’s voice rang 
with exultation. 

She watched the deadly change in Margaret’s face 
as an assassin might gloat over the death of a victim. 

As Margaret, staggered, broken-hearted and crushed 
in spirit from the room, May hurled after her the 
threat, that to divulge this confession would mean to 
make of her a deadly enemy. 

It is needless to say that Ralph Glenwood lost no 
time in taking the first train for home. His great, 
^ loving heart was beating so heavily with apprehension. 


GLENWOOD. 


221 


that for some time it seemed choking him. Even the 
lightning express seemed but a snail’s pace to the anx- 
ious and impatient husband, and moments were to him 
like long drawn ages. 

When he arrived at Glenwood, Margaret seemed to 
know it by intuition. She sprang to meet him in the 
hall, and with outstretched hands, she gave a low, piti- 
ful cry of mingled joy and pain, that smote Kalph 
Glenwood’s heart like a bolt of steel. The convulsive 
grasp of her arms around his neck told him of her 
hidden heart-pain and anguish. Eor the moment she 
was off her guard, and love triumphed over all else — 
and then there was a sudden reserve. Her face crim- 
soned, as if she thought she had gone too far and had 
revealed too much. Then pride came to her aid, and 
she tried to he her own sweet self again. 

Ralph Glenwood was impatient for an opportunity 
to question her and try to find the cause of her hidden 
wounds, whatever they might he, but Margaret gave 
him no opportunity. She turned suddenly from him 
as if divining his thoughts, and went to the parlor and 
told of his arrival. She insisted that she had been well, 
during his absence, and she was sorry if she had been 
so dumpish as to cause uneasiness to darling mother. 

“ I will feel differently, now that you are at home,” 
she said to her husband, with a forced smile, that gave 
pain to those who loved her, for it died away almost in- 
stantly, and left an expression of hopeless sadness, if 
not despair. 

Her eyes looked unnaturally large, and beamed with 
a strange, metallic luster, while her cheeks paled and 
glowed with fitful crimson, that sent sharp arrows of 
alarm to pierce Ralph Glenwood’s heart, and make his 
soul grow faint within him. 

The young lady guest was all attention, asking him 
questions of his journey, and of business, as if she 
were the only one interested in his welfare. There was 


222 


GLENWOOD. 


little chance for any one else to speak at all, but his 
answers were as brief as politeness would permit. 

He saw as clearly as did his mother, a malicious 
triumph over some wrong committed, without any 
compunction of conscience, while poor, stricken Mar- 
garet stole out of the room to hide her wounds in soli- 
tude, and seek relief in prayer. 

It was evening, cold and cloudy, and though the 
parlor was as beautifully lighted as usual, it did not 
seem like the room or home of two weeks previous. A 
strange, undefinable shadow seemed to hang over the 
household, and all felt it with sickening and shud- 
dering dread, except May Shirling. 

Mrs. Glenwood left the room to give some slight 
attention to the evening meal, and Margaret slipped out 
also, as silently as a shadow. 

“ What a strange creature Margaret is — I mean your 
wife, Mr. Glenwood,” said May Shirling, with a little 
affected giggle. “ I was speaking of how strange it 
seemed the way most men get married again, after the 
first wife dies — in a year or two. Mind, I did not say, 
all men, yet Margaret — I mean your wife — looked as 
if she thought she had to die, and give her place to 
some one else. I don’t think she is well, do you ? ” 

There was a flash of sheet-lightning from a pair of 
stern eyes, as Ralph Glenwood replied with measured 
tones that would have stung to the heart anything 
human, except May Shirling. 

“ And you would be glad to have her die, and die of 
a broken heart! But were she a thousand times dead, 
it would never do you, nor any one else any good, if 
that is what you are after. 

It is not the man who is left a widower, but it is 
the contemptible meddling of others, urging him to the 
step, making light of his sorrow, and giving him no 
chance to mourn his dead. While his heart is an open, 
bleeding wound, with laugh and jest, they thrust in 


GLENWOOD. 


223 


their cruel hands and tear his heart-strings. It is bar- 
barous in its savage brutality. After they have driven 
and goaded him to do as they wished him to do, they 
mock and ridicule him for it, and belie the grief that 
is hidden in his soul for the loved and lost.’^ 

“ How absurdly in earnest you both take a joke,” 
said May with a simper. 

‘‘ Yes, it is part and parcel of the joking over death 
and bereavement of which I have been speaking. The 
one who would do it, and thus mock human sorrow, 
deserves to be struck dumb.” 

He strode wrathfully from the room in search of 
Margaret. He saw that the case was even worse than 
he had supposed. 

Mrs. Glenwood came in to say that tea was ready. 
Margaret was in the dining room, where Ralph Glen- 
wood found her, with patient face and downcast eyes, 
and a look of unutterable weariness that could not be 
disguised. She did not see the impassioned glances of 
pain and love that were bent upon her ; if she had, and 
could have read them aright, it would have comforted 
her, as nothing else could, in all the wide world. 

After tea was over, Margaret lingered in the dining 
room, trying to help Dinah, in spite of her protest. 
The good soul could have carried her in her bosom, and 
cried for her, as she saw her try to hide her pain and 
shrink from the one being, dearer to her than all the 
world, and far dealer than life itself. 

Go into the parlor, honey, an’ I will pray fur you, 
all de time. Dar is places in dis life, when dat is all 
we can do fur one anoder, when sorrow is so deep our 
human hands can’t reach it. Dat great heart beats all 
right fur you, honey, an’ allers will, all tru life. I 
knows dat, fur sartin’ so don’t griebe so. Dat gal 
wanted him herse’f afore he gibbed his heart ter you; 
so I ’spec’s she hah hurt you wid lies; but don’t you 
bleeb her, honey. Hobory can’t say nuifin’ agin 
Marser Ralph Glenwood.” 


224 


GLENWOOD. 


Tears sprang into the sad eyes of Margaret. Her 
lips quivered as she closed them tightly over the white 
teeth, trying to crush down all rising emotion. Dinah 
patted her soothingly on the shoulder, and opened the 
door for her, with her own eyes blind with tears, as 
she said : Neber mind de lies, honey, his heart is all 
right fur you.” 

Margaret seemed like one groping in darkness, or 
as if she had been stunned with a deadly blow. She 
hardly had power to move or speak. Dinah longed to 
take her in her arms and soothe her to sleep like a 
troubled infant, and since she could not do that, she 
prayed for her, as a mother might pray for her dying 
child. 

Ralph Glenwood entered the parlor but a moment 
before Margaret came in quietly, and took a seat one 
side, by herself. He had been called from the table to 
see the foreman on business. His anxious eyes turned 
to look at her, and tried to get a glimpse of hers, but 
the white lids drooped too low over them. 

May Shirling occupied the piano stool, leaning 
against the instrument in a studied attitude, while she 
twirled the rings on her white fingers. She talked per- 
sistently to Ralph Glenwood, in spite of his chilling 
reserve. 

“ Will you play something ? ” asked Margaret, when 
conversation ceased, and the silence became painful and 
oppressive, though the effort to converse was more 
painful still. 

May smiled her reply, and immediately the well 
trained fingers dashed off gay music, which was a tor- 
ture to the rest of the party; but it ended at last, like 
all things else. Ralph Glenwood drew a ehair to Mar- 
garet’s side, and tried to converse with her. She was 
attentive and often tried to smile and appear like her- 
self ; but she failed utterly, and her husband saw that 
her efforts were too great for her. She seemed ab- 



Ilis anxious eyes turned to look at her and tried to j^et 
a glimpse of hers.” 


GLENWOOD. 


225 


stracted, though evidently striving hard for composure 
and self-possession. She was, however, too ill to sit up. 

He noticed her changing color with much secret 
alarm, as did his mother, who cast meaning glances to- 
wards Margaret, and proposed retiring early. Her son 
acquiesced in the proposition, ostensibly on account of 
fatigue, but really to try and find out what ailed Mar- 
garet. He feared that her wounds were past healing. 

It was some time after retiring, before she could be 
prevailed upon to tell the cause of her mental suffering, 
and then it was in broken sentences, and snatches 
choked with sobs. Nothing could soothe or quiet her. 
She took it that it was only meant to cover up the pain- 
ful fact that he was fickle, and would soon tire of her, 
as he had tired of others. Every new face would seem 
to him lovelier than the last, and marriage would make 
no difference. 

She reminded him of the time when she told him she 
could never be an unloved wife. It would kill her, and 
now no one would care, but mother. At first, when the 
pain was almost maddening, she only thought of Lowell, 
longing to go there and hide her misery in work. Then 
she realized the cruel wrong and sin it would be to him 
and to darling mother, to bring scandal on their proud 
and honored name. She could not do that, so she con- 
cluded that it would be better to die, and not let the 
world know what killed her. And then, pride and over- 
mastering love, made her try to live, whether he wanted 
her to, or not ; so love and duty held her in torture, like 
chains of iron, but it was killing her, after all, and he 
would not care — but she loved him so, it was hard to 
die and have him forget her. Then she upbraided him 
for trying to win her heart when he had none to give 
in return, for he had been giving it away, all his life. 

How the great loyal heart bled for her, as she pite- 
ously pleaded to know why he had deceived her, only 
to have her die of a broken heart, after holding out to 


226 


GLENWOOD. 


her the glowing beacon of life-long hope and happiness. 

All his denials, and tender, passionate words of love 
seemed unheard and unheeded in her tempest of sor- 
row. 

She sobbed on his bosom in her abandonment of woe, 
as if soul and body would be tom asunder. She heeded 
not how faithfully his aching heart was beating for her, 
which made him almost curse the serpent that had en- 
tered their Eden of love and happiness, and had 
brought this great sorrow upon him and his innocent 
and unoffending wife while his life and character were 
as yet, almost unknown to her. 

He lived a lifetime of agony through the long 
watches of that terrible night, fearing that it had killed 
Margaret, or had slain her happiness and destroyed her 
love for him, as well as her faith and trust in his 
honor and integrity. 

From what could be gathered from Margaret^s 
words, she believed all that had been told her, and was 
frantic with grief over it, as well as with regret, be- 
cause she had married him, instead of going to Lowell, 
since she was only to be cast aside like faded leaves or 
withered flowers. 

There seemed no way by which his words of love and 
fldelity could reach her stricken soul. She exhausted 
herself over and over in torrents of tears and sobbing, 
and then she would lie for a time in almost breathless 
stupor, only to rouse again to a fresh outburst. 

Towards morning, her vital powers seemed to be giv- 
ing way. Exhaustion became almost deadly, and 
nothing could rouse her to consciousness. Ralph Glen- 
wood gently laid the limp form back on the pillow, and 
in all haste rapped at his mother’s door, gaining prompt 
admittance. 

“ Mother, don’t be alarmed,” he said, as his trem- 
bling hand gently touched her forehead. I must 


GLENWOOD. 


227 


send for a doctor. Margaret has had a fearful night. 
I could not pierce through the depths of her anguish to 
make her take in one word of love, nor of denial of all 
that May Shirling instilled into her mind in my ab- 
sence; hut I will tell you all, another time.” 

Mother and son were soon bending over Margaret, 
with words of impassioned love and tenderness, that 
might almost wake the dead; so Dinah thought, when 
she too tried to rouse her to consciousness; yet it only 
elicited faint moans, and the low mutterings of 
delirium. 

“ I know’d all dis, poor chile, poor chile ! ” exclaimed 
Dinah, wringing her hands, with tears streaming down 
her face. “ Dis is annoder blossom ob Glenwood, 
crushed an’ broke down ter de’f.” 

The family physician came in all haste, and after 
asking many questions, and making a thorough ex- 
amination, he pronounced it brain fever. When he 
made his announcement with some hesitancy, Ralph 
Glenwood’s heart stood still for a moment before he 
gasped out : Will she die ? ” 

“ I hope not ! though the attack is very severe, and 
the danger great; but we must not despair. All our 
energies are needed to battle in her behalf.” The doc- 
tor did not tell what he saw in the beginning, that there 
would be a fierce contest with the king of terrors. 

“ She has been ill for some days,” he said, “ but she 
is young, and was happy before the shock, or trouble 
came, which brought all this about. It of course, was 
done in your absence, as I gather from what you have 
hinted. This has been going on for a week or two. 
She has hidden it too long, while she has been using 
up her life-forces, battling with it alone. It is a pity 
that it was not discovered sooner, so that a stop could 


228 


GLENWOOD. 


have been put to it. The house must be as quiet as the 
grave. You may trust me to dismiss your company as 
gently as possibly. I probably can do it better than you 
can. It will not do to make any stir. It can do no 
good. The young lady is from a most excellent family 
— one of our very best. It is no fault of her friends at 
home ; and in such a case, I think it would be better to 
not trouble them with it. The harm cannot be undone 
by anything that they can do. If a doctor cannot keep 
family secrets, he has chosen the wrong profession; so 
rest assured that the confidence reposed in me is safe, 
but it is necessary that I should have the key of the 
whole of this lamentable and disastrous affair, and may 
God help us in the sorrowful task before us ! ” 

“ Amen ! ” said mother and son, most fervently. 

“ Our patient must have but few attendants, and 
they must be those she loves best, if possible. Ho 
strangers must be admitted to nurse, or care for her. 
Every effort must be put forth to try to reach her 
clouded brain with some word of love to rouse the 
forces of life. It is indispensable in giving aid in bat- 
tling with disease, and to ward off the encroachment of 
death on her almost paralyzed vital powers. 

‘‘ Words can kill, and words can help greatly at 
times, towards making whole — particularly, if it can 
be seen that they are sincere, and are full of love and 
hope. 

“ It is my wish to call a council of physicians at ten 
o^clock to-day, to decide the best course of treatment, 
and then we shall have nothing to regret, if the case 
goes against us.” 

Ralph Glenwood groaned aloud and steadied himself 
against the dressing-case for support, for his strength 
seemed to have suddenly failed him. 


GLENWOOD. 


229 


Brace up, my friend ! ” said the Doctor. “ We al- 
ways say there is hope as long as there is life. This 
lady has not lost all her chances yet. So keep a brave 
heart, and you too, dear madam. We will not let this 
treasure slip from our grasp without an inch by inch 
contest with the white horse and his rider.” 

Then he gave careful and minute directions in re- 
gard to care and treatment in every particular. He 
then left the room, and told May Shirling that it 
would be better for her to go with him to her own home. 

She had just descended from the sleeping apartment 
of rosewood and mahogany, where she had risen from 
refreshing sleep, much earlier than was her custom in 
her own home. With her, self-indulgence was the rule, 
and not the exception. 

“ These sudden cases of illness sometimes prove in- 
fectious, though this may not be of that class. I am 
sure that it is not; but in any case, I think, that now 
there is sickness in the house, you will find it much 
pleasanter in your own home, especially as the most 
absolute quiet must be maintained for the benefit of 
my patient. I cannot lose this case, it would kill them 
all.” 

May Shirling was very willing to go. She had done 
her work well and was satisfied. She did not care to 
risk her own life, nor give up her pleasure by staying 
longer. She, like many others, preferred to go to the 
house of feasting, rather than to remain in the house 
of mourning. She would much rather let others care 
for the sick and sorrowing, without her aid. She saw 
that she had played a losing game with Ealph Glen- 
wood, and did not care to meet him very soon, if ever, 
though her conscience did not trouble her in regard to 
Margaret. 


230 


GLENWOOD. 


In all the after years of life, Ralph Glenwood never 
forgot the dreary anguish of his heart in the cold, gray 
dawn of that January morning, as it looked on his 
misery, when he was so stunned and hopeless he could 
not even pray. His mother was hardly less crushed 
under the sudden blow, though she could better collect 
and control her thoughts. She took her post by Mar- 
garet’s bedside, caressing her throbbing temples when 
she moaned, and keeping still when she was quiet, 
hoping that she might sleep. 

Ralph Glenwood stood there, so shorn of strength 
that it seemed as if the very earth had slipped away 
from beneath him, while he was trying to think that 
death could not be for her, in the perfection of her 
womanhood, and in her new happiness, after life had 
been so dark, and the morning of her joy had but just 
dawned, and the name of wife was yet new to both of 
them. 

He tried to assure himself that it could not be that 
her short dream of earthly bliss must end, in agony 
and suffering, and perhaps death, when he had hoped 
to make life bright and fair for her through many 
years to come. 

“ Oh, God ! My God ! ” was the piteous cry and 
moan which roused his mother to consciousness of his 
need of aid from her, and from God. 

“ Don’t, Ralph ! Don’t despair ! ” she said, as she 
lifted her white fact to his, and saw the change his 
agony had wrought. 

Oh, mother ! ” was the brief cry that wrung her 
heart with anguish. 

Lie down for her sake, and for my sake, my son,” 
she entreated. ‘‘ It may give you some rest, even if 
you do not sleep. We must care for ourselves, that we 


GLENWOOD. 


231 


may the better care for her. Love service is every- 
thing for the sick, and a kind and sympathetic heart is 
the best teacher, with the aid of common sense. Dinah 
is an excellent nurse. We can have her aid, even if 
everything else is left. It matters little what is lost, 
if Margaret is saved. I will not despair, even though 
the shock is sudden and great; so take heart, my son, 
and lie down.” 

He did as he was bidden, and time dragged on, till 
the four medical gentlemen arrived for consultation. 
Ralph Glenwood and his mother looked at them as if 
they held the issues of life and death in their keeping; 
but their grave faces inspired no hope in the heart of 
mother and son. 

If any wished to know how dear was that imperiled 
life at Glenwood, they had only to look at those two 
faces as the physicians saw them that bitter January 
morning. 

After they had examined the case a second time, and 
had consulted long over it, they mercifully withheld 
their unanimous decision in regard to the young wife’s 
doom. The eldest of the four answered Ralph Glen- 
wood’s questions with tender compassion for his anx- 
iety and alarm. 

We hope for the best,” he said, “ and give back 
the patient into Dr. Benton’s hands. He can do as 
well as any of us, and perhaps better, as he is nearer 
by. His skill is beyond question. 

The best course of treatment has been decided upon, 
as to medicine, care, nourishment, ventilation, and fre- 
quent changes of clothing and bed-clothing, which must 
be well aired, and warmed before coming in contact 
with the patient. In such cases, the room must not be 
kept too warm, nor in any case, in fact. It makes the 


232 


GLENWOOD. 


patient restless; increases fever, induces faintness and 
lessens the chances of recovery. 

“ The furnace heat must be turned off, and a fire in 
the grate substituted. It will be an advantage to turn 
the pillow as often as it becomes heated, unless the 
patient is sleeping — in that case, do not waken her on 
any occount, not even to give medicine. 

“ It is an unwise plan to have watchers, and often a 
very dangerous one, and have them stirring about, and 
talking in whispers. It disturbs the quiet of the patient 
and prevents sleep. The pillows must be aired in the 
open air, but must not be put under the head too cold. 

“ The air of the room must be occasionally changed, 
by opening a window where no draft can touch the 
I)atient. All these things carefully attended to, will be 
conducive to comfort, and will give us more hope of 
the patient’s ultimate recovery.” 

Directions were given in regard to nourishment, as 
being next to sleep in importance; and then the con- 
sulting party took their leave, except Dr. Benton, who 
wished them to try to induce the patient to take broth, 
or porridge sufficient to sustain life; and give it at 
stated intervals. 

As he was leaving the house, Dinah waited for him 
in the hall, and implored him to sabe Missy Marg’et’s 
life.” 

“ Oh, do sabe her life ! ” was her beseeching cry, 
with uplifted hands, and tear-blinded eyes, 

“ I certainly will, if it lies in the power of man to 
do it, but more depends on care and nursing, than on 
the doctor ; and yet, if the patient dies for the want of 
these requisites, the blame is not always laid where it 
belongs. I put great faith in you, Dinah; for the 
others are nearly prostrated. Cheer them up, whether 


GLENWOOD. 


233 


there is any hope or not ; or I fear we shall have them 
on our hands also. Glenwood’s heart is nearly crushed 
under the blow, with the terror of losing his wife. I 
do not want strangers around the sick lady, if I can 
help it. I prefer those she loves — so do all you can for 
her. You are my main reliance. I know what you can 
do, of old!^’ 

Trus’ me fur dese affairs ! ” said Dinah. “ I won’t 
spare my life, if it can sabe Missy Marg’ets. I kin 
work, an’ I kin pray, an’ I’ll do it too ! ” 

The door closed softly after the Doctor, and Dinah 
brought food for Mrs. Glenwood and her son, and 
coaxed and urged them to eat, and when her plea was 
for Missy Marg’et’s sake,” it was successful. 

Pete was left at work in the kitchen, and Dinah 
went to the sick-room to take Mrs. Glenwood’s post of 
duty, urging her in the name of “ Missy Marg’et, ter 
lie down, an’ res’ her tired head.” 

Ralph Glenwood was besought in the same manner, 
till both yielded to her entreaties, and fell asleep at 
last — the one breathing heavily, with flushed cheeks, 
and the other with faint respirations, and pallid coun- 
tenance. 

In the days that came and went, Pete was left to do 
many a household task, while Dinah watched and 
prayed by Margaret’s couch of suffering, after she had 
pleadingly besought Mrs. Glenwood and Ralph to lie 
down, and rest and sleep. She could be heard day or 
night, as the case might be, soothing Margaret’s moans 
with tender words of encouragement, as well as breath- 
ing low and heart-felt prayer. 

“ Dar, honey ! ” she would say ; “ you is gwine ter 
bo better. Marser Ralph is mos’ daid, cause you is 
sick; but we is gwine ter make you well agin, ’cause 


234 


GLENWOOD. 


we lubs you so ; ” and sbe would bathe the burning 
brow and caress it, while softly breathing words of 
endearment, as soothing as a mother’s lullaby — and 
Margaret would drop ofp to sleep again. 

Mother and son could not do less than bless the faith- 
ful soul for her ministrations, as they had done a thou- 
sand times in the past, for wanting to take all life’s 
burdens on her own broad shoulders. 

She was never so happy as when doing good to those 
she loved in the fair and beautiful home at Glenwood. 

Lower and still lower down to death sank Margaret 
Glenwood. All that tireless love and human care and 
skill could do, stayed not the hand of disease — and 
now a few hours of a cold, still, starlit night was to 
decide her fate. She was sleeping without sound or 
motion. Disease had warred with life till it had spent 
itself — and trembling hope and sickening fear had al- 
ternated, till only blank despair was left. 

I have come to watch to-night,” said Dr. Benton. 

“ Let me watch with you,” pleaded the wan-faced 
husband. 

“ Let me stay also,” said Mrs. Glenwood, with 
quivering lips. 

Neither of you,” was the laconic reply. “ If there 
is the faintest chance for life, I must grasp it, and sup- 
port nature to the utmost. You might defeat it by 
word or sound, or by some lack of self-control. There 
will be a great change when the fever has subsided. 
She will look startlingly pale and sunken, and fearfully 
like death. Pulse and breath will at times falter, or be 
very faint, for she is scarcely alive now. You would 
think her dying, and would be apt to make some sound 
that would reach her, and she too, would think herself 
going, and all would be over. 


GLENWOOD. 


235 


I have no doubt that many lives are lost in that 
way. The shock given in that supreme moment, snaps 
the silken cord, and the golden bowl is broken, — when 
cheering self-possession, and the careful hiding of fear 
and apprehension would call back the just departing 
soul, and set the wheels of life in motion. 

“ I want strong broth and porridge ready at hand, 
although I shall not allow this sleep to be broken to 
give it, but if she wakes, I must be ready then, at the 
instant, to support Nature with every means at my com- 
mand.” 

Mrs. Glenwood was really too prostrated to sit up at 
all, and Ralph looked as if his lease of life were nearly 
over. The blue eyes that Margaret had delighted to 
look into and read the sweet story of love and affection, 
were sad and sunken now, almost beyond recognition, 
since the dark eyes looked into them no more, and were 
closed, as if forever. 

Both mother and son took a long, lingering look at 
their heart’s idol, till the Doctor motioned them away, 
as he saw that their anguish was getting beyond their 
control. 

Mrs. Glenwood went to her couch to weep and pray, 
and at last she fell into an uneasy slumber. 

Ralph Glenwood sat in another room, as close to the 
door of the sick chamber as possible, with his throbbing 
head clasped in his hands, while the slow hours dragged 
on. 

At times, all his senses were strained to listen, trying 
to catch some sound from the room where the Doctor 
was sole watcher, — but none reached him. At last the 
terrible fear came over him that the Doctor slept, and 
that Margaret was dead, yet he dared not open the door 
to see. 


236 


GLENWOOD. 


After hours had passed, that seemed to him countless 
ages, the hand of the physician was laid on his shoul- 
der, without having made a sound on entering the 
room. Ralph Glenwood feared to open his eyes. His 
heart stood still in terror; expecting the heavy tidings 
of Margaret’s death. The agony of a lifetime was com- 
pressed in those few moments, till the Doctor gently 
shook him, to cause him to look up — and in the bright, 
hopeful face of the physician and friend, he read the 
joyful news that Margaret lived. 

She is sleeping as quietly as an infant,” he said, 
and is in a warm and gentle perspiration. With good 
care she will live. But remember, my friend, a feath- 
er’s weight will turn the scale for life or death. She is 
very nearly out of the world now, yet all is in her favor, 
and will remain so, with judicious care. 

“ Let there be no sound, and when she wakes again, 
give her a few sips of broth or porridge, with hopeful, 
cheering words to soothe her to sleep again, and keep 
her brain from thinking. 

“ I have given her nourishment three times, and the 
best words of cheer that I could think of, and but few 
of them, so that her brain could remain inactive. She 
has slept on, and has been breathing stronger and her 
pulse has been rallying. When she wakes, which will 
be soon, I prefer that she should see your mother and 
you, rather than me, for fear it might alarm her. It 
would perhaps give rise to the thought that her danger 
must be great, or I would not be watching. How go, 
and tell the joyful news to your mother, and with your 
permission and hers, I will lie down and sleep till eight 
o’clock. 

It is six now. Then, if you will call me, I will 


GLENWOOD. 237 

take breakfast, and attend to my other patients at the 
usual time. 

“ Don’t stop for thanks, my friend, but go to the 
bedside of your wife, and rest in new hope, and bless 
God for His great mercy. 

“Again I charge you to let her see only hope, no 
matter what your fears may be. Do not permit her to 
make the etfort to talk, and do not talk to her much, 
and on no account must any one be admitted to her 
room except that good-souled, faithful Dinah.” 

Kalph Glenwood kissed his mother awake, telling 
her in a few words of the joy that had come to them, 
and then he preceded her to Margaret’s room. 

The Doctor had lain down on the sofa. Mrs. Glen- 
wood stopped to cover him with additional blankets, 
blessing him in her heart, with every move she made. 

Ralph Glenwood stood with misty eyes, looking at 
his stricken darling, half wild to clasp her to his bosom, 
in his overwhelming joy, to think that she lived; yet 
he dared not touch her with even the lightest kiss, 
neither on the pale, parted lips, nor on the death-white 
brow, where the damp waves of hair were resting. 

After Mrs. Glenwood entered the room, they stood 
with clasped hands, that told how full their hearts 
were, while they almost hushed their breathing, for fear 
of disturbing that soft, life-giving slumber. They 
noted the change that a few hours had wrought in Mar- 
garet’s looks. Where there had been the red pufSness 
of fever, there was wan pallor now, that looked like 
nothing else but death. 

Mrs. Glenwood stole softly to the kitchen, to tell the 
good news to Dinah, who could not be prevailed upon to 
go to bed, but had been sitting in her chair all night; 
most of the time, weeping and praying, and expecting 


238 


GLENWOOD. 


the news that death had blotted out the living sunbeam 
which had brightened Glenwood, only three short 
months. 

When Mrs. Glenwood told her that Margaret lived 
and would get well again, the good soul was totally 
beside herself with joy. She flew out of her chair on 
all fours, as if she had received a shock from a gal- 
vanic battery, but she quickly gathered herself up and 
went round the room, wringing her hands in the excess 
of her joy, and exclaiming over and over: 

Bress de Lor’ ! Oh, bress de Lor’ ! ” while the 
tears rained in torrents from the great solemn eyes 
that had kept sleepless vigils over Margaret’s couch of 
suffering, watching and praying for the life that had 
been drifting out on the ocean of death, almost beyond 
recall. 

Mrs. Glenwood returned to Margaret’s bedside, leav- 
ing Dinah alone to sob out her joy, and get breakfast 
for the Doctor, who slept with the consciousness of 
duty well done, and was doing it in a way to make up 
for considerable lost time, as doctors usually do. 

Pete was up, and rejoicing too, because Margaret 
was slowly but surely coming back to them, from the 
strange mystery of death, whither she had been drift- 
ing. 

Nearly two hours had passed, and Margaret awoke. 
Mother and son gave her assuring smiles, and cheering 
words, with nourishment and tonics, and then stooped 
to kiss the pure brow, so fair and sweet, and told her 
that she was much better. 

The dark eyes, too sick to be held open, closed again, 
while the healing angel of sleep folded her in its em- 
brace, and helped her slowly back from the dark river 
that had laved her young feet with its chilling waters. 


GLENWOOD. 


239 


Pete had faithfully cared for the conservatory, while 
Ralph Glenwood had been too agonized for Margaret’s 
life, to think of flowers. 

They had bloomed on, unconscious of sorrow, or of 
death’s near approach to one who loved them best ; and 
now they were ready to help her back to life with their 
winning sweetness and beauty. Ralph Glenwood gath- 
ered an exquisite bouquet of roses, and other flowers 
of harmless fragrance, and placed them where the 
brown eyes could rest on them when she should wake 
again. 

So the days passed on, while the tender ministra- 
tions of love placed Margaret’s feet on firmer footing, 
till at last she seemed to come to a standstill. Though 
weeks had passed, she was in a low, debilitated condi- 
tion, almost as helpless as an infant in the earliest dawn 
of life. Tender care and loving words were lavishly be- 
stowed, but the large eyes gained none of the sparkle of 
health and happiness; but wore, instead, a pained and 
sorrowful expression, as if earth held no hope for her, 
yet she loved Ralph Glenwood with such painful in- 
tensity, it was hard to think of death. 

Wearily she struggled with the constantly rising wish 
that she had passed over and beyond the sorrows and 
trials of life. She was not yet strong enough to sum- 
mon pride to hide her pain. 

It showed itself, till the hearts that loved her, ached 
almost to bursting, and feared, as did the Doctor, that 
it would end in decline and death, after all. 

Dr. Benton was appealed to in regard to her prostra- 
tion, and her evident depression of spirits, and its 
effects on her vital powers, in retarding recovery. 

“ In the first place, she has been very low down to 
death,” said the Doctor. “ The forces of life were 


240 


GLENWOOD. 


nearly destroyed, and have come hack but slowly. It 
it a wonder that she lived at all. In the second place, 
her happiness was annihilated. Her heart was virtu- 
ally broken. There lies the secret of her present condi- 
tion, her lack of interest in life, and the low exhaustion 
of her vital powers. 

“ The sorrow that burned her brain into inflamma- 
tion, and almost paralyzed her heart, is there yet, 
though in a less degree. She is using her small stock 
of vitality to grapple with it, and the work is too great 
for her.” 

What can we do. Doctor ? Is there no hope, and 
no help for all this ? ” was Ralph Glenwood’s troubled 
inquiry. “ I cannot see her fade away and die of a 
broken heart. It would kill me, I am sure.” 

“ We must bind up that broken heart, and remove the 
deep-seated impressions that false representations have 
made.” 

“ But how can it be done ? I dare not rouse her by 
further denials of the charges against me. She will 
think I do it to conceal painful facts to pacify and 
deceive her. I grieve and sorrow over it day and night, 
and I take it to the Eriend of the sorrowful, and still 
I see no light and no change for the better.” 

Dr. Benton’s face grew brighter as he said : “ My 
dear sir, your life has been too pure and noble, to have 
the wife of your bosom doubt you, and not see or know 
the truth of all the wealth of love and affection that you 
lavish upon her. 

“ She is grieving herself to death over it, after all 
that she has already suffered. All this is too much to 
bear for the falsity of a jealous and designing woman. 

“ How, with your permission, or without it,” said 
the Doctor, smiling pleasantly, “ I will take this mat- 


GLENWOOD. 


241 


ter into my own hands. Have no fears, my friend. I 
shall probe the wounds with a surgeon’s skill, and feel 
sure of bringing about a healthy state of healing, and 
a better condition of affairs, throughout the whole 
length and breadth of the case before us.” 

Ralph Glenwood could only wring the Doctor’s 
hand, and was gone, without another word, while the 
physician repeated, over to himself the lines: 

“ Oh, man may bear with suffering: 

His heart is a strong thing, and God-like in the grasp 
Of pain that wrings mortality ; but tear 
One chord affection clings to — part one tie 
That binds him to woman’s delicate love — 

And his great spirit yieldeth like a reed.” 

“ Good morning,” said the Doctor, with his cheery 
face thrust into Margaret’s room in advance of his 
short, stumpy figure. 

Margaret smiled and hade him enter, as she echoed 
his morning salutation. 

“ It’s getting towards spring,” he said, rubbing the 
palms of his hands briskly together. “ We must have 
you ready to drive out the first fine days that show 
themselves, no matter if they do lie in the lap of win- 
ter. Some patients never seem to have the power to 
rally much, till they are carried out into the open air, 
even before they can stand on their feet. You have 
been so patient, our hearts have ached all the more for 
you. Though I am a hardened old stump, it has hurt 
me to see your husband in his anxious solicitude for 
you, and see those great blue eyes look so sad, and hear 
him ask me daily if you are growing better and 
stronger. I am often tempted to lie, just for the sake 
of cheering him up a little. Your illness has almost 
killed him, poor fellow. His mother is greatly alarmed 


242 


GLENWOOD. 


concerning him, and I do not wonder. He is only a 
shadow of himself. You have much to live for, Mrs. 
Glenwood. 

“ It is not every wife who is worshiped as that 
great, loving heart bows down in homage to you. If 
you could have seen him, as we saw him, when he 
thought you could not live, you would not believe that 
even death could blot out such love as his. And it will 
not. It will go with him, beyond the shores of time.’^ 

There was a new interest in the wan face now, as 
Margaret saw the Doctor^s sincerity. Her beseeching 
eyes were lifted eagerly, while her very soul was drink- 
ing in every word with intense interest. 

“ You don’t think him fickle, do you ? ” and the dark, 
sorrowful eyes drooped beneath the Doctor’s gaze, as 
if she saw how cruelly she had been deceived. 

Ralph, Glenwood, ficMe f He repeated the words 
slowly, in unfeigned astonishment. “ Can you be in 
earnest, Mrs. Glenwood? Has your poor sick heart 
been brooding over such a base emanation from the 
prince of darkness? Hothing else could have caused 
you to doubt him, with all his grand nobility of life 
and character. 

‘‘ What spirit of evil ever put such ideas into your 
head ? If there is not reliability and stability in him, 
then I confess that I would not know where to find it 
in this world.” 

There was no questioning the Doctor’s sincerity, 
and Margaret saw it in his looks, as well as in his 
words. 

I can tell you of a surety, Mrs. Glenwood, that 
you will always find him as true as the needle to the 
pole. You can think of that, as the mariner thinks of 
his compass and guiding star. 


GLENWOOD. 


243 


“ Again I say that nothing can turn him from his 
allegiance to you : Never! As he has been in the past, 
true in all things, so he will be in the future. When 
such men love, they love for life, aye — and for death 
too, as for that matter.” 

Margaret drank in the words as if life itself were 
dependent upon them. Her sinking heart clutched 
them as the drowning clutch at straws. The Doctor^s 
feelings were deeply touched to see the glad tears gather 
on the dark lashes. He took hope and left her, telling 
her anxious husband, as he met him in the hall. 

“ Your wife is decidedly better, sir. We have great 
cause for hope. I would advise you to leave her alone 
for a while, and let her think over what I have been 
saying concerning you. I left the bell on the stand, 
within reach, so that she can call when she chooses. I 
wish you could have seen her face, when I let in the 
light of truth on her troubled mind.” 

The Doctor’s very soul was gladdened to see Ralph 
Glenwood’s countenance, as it caught the reflection of 
light that beamed on his own happy face. He went his 
way, humming a merry tune over the consciousness of 
having done a good deed, whereby two souls were com- 
forted, and made happier. 


244 


.GLENWOOD. 


CHAPTER XX. 

'A VISITOR IN Margaret’s sickroom. 

The afternoon of the same day there was a gentle 
rap on the door of the sickroom, and an elderly woman 
asked in sweet, motherly tones : ‘‘ May I come in ? Mrs. 
Glenwood said I might. She was coming in with me, 
hut I persuaded her to go and lie down, she looked so 
ill and worn. 

“ I told her that I would care for you as tenderly as 
she could. She knows and trusts me. This was my 
home for years. I was nurse and care-taker for all her 
children. I lived here from the time Ralph was horn, 
till the little girl died, fifteen years ago this fall. I 
promised Dinah and Mrs. Glenwood that I wouldn’t 
talk too much, so they let me come to see you.” 

‘‘ You are very welcome,” said Margaret. I am 
really better to-day, so it will do me good to have you 
talk to me.” 

“ It will not he best for you to talk much. It is hurt- 
ful to sick people,” said Mrs. Wilmer. They are sure 
to he worse after it. It tires the vital organs still more 
to talk when lying down. Having much company is not 
good for the sick either. I am going to take care of 
you for three or four hours, so I am not company. I 
have inquired concerning you often during your illness, 


GLENWOOD. 


245 


and have asked your husband if he thought it would 
hurt you to see me ? His reply has been that the Doctor 
would not permit it; so to-day I have come of my own 
accord, and have gained admittance on the promise of 
good behavior.” 

She laughed in such a soft, genial way, that it did 
Margaret good to hear it. She was glad that the 
stranger had come to see her. She liked the pleasant 
face, and regarded her in kindlier favor, because she 
had spoken of her loved ones in terms of praise and 
atfection. 

“ Poor, darling mother ! I fear that she is seriously 
ill,” said Margaret. “ I have been such a trouble and 
care to all of them.” 

Ho, you are mistaken. It has been a joy to them 
to care for you, and minister to your comfort, trying to 
make you well again. Their anxiety and grief is what 
has worn on them. It bears strong evidence of their 
affection for you. Mr. Glenwood looks as if he had had 
a long fit of sickness. 

“ There, now ! ” said Mrs. Wilmer, seeing the change 
in Margaret’s countenance. “ I am tiring you, already. 
I ought to have known better.” She went to the bed 
and shook up the pillows, and changed Margaret’s posi- 
tion to relieve the weariness of lying so long, and then 
sat down again, closer to the invalid, so that her gentle 
hand could caress Margaret’s tired head. 

Ho, you do not tire me. I am tired of myself, and 
I want to hear you talk. Please tell me of your own 
life, if you care to ? And tell me of my loved ones here, 
all about Ealph and the other children,” was the eager 
entreaty. 

I tire my brain out, thinking too much, and cannot 
help it. Mother and Ealph would read to me, I am 


246 


GLENWOOD. 


sure, only they fear it will injure me. They read a 
chapter or two from the Bible twice a day, which is a 
comfort. It eases my bed in my sickness.” 

“ Never mind, my poor child. I will talk, after I 
raise the further window, and give you a long breath- 
ing spell. It will do you a world of good. There is 
nothing like fresh air, if a draft does not strike you.” 

Margaret drew in a long, deep breath, with much 
satisfaction, saying how refreshing it was. Mrs. Wil- 
mer advised opening the windows oftener, and not too 
long at a time, so she closed it, as she said soothingly: 
“ Keep up good courage, my dear. You will soon be so 
that you can go out and breathe the open air as often 
as you wish. We never know how great that privilege 
is, till we lose it. Your way back to health has been 
slow and tedious, but remember that good courage is 
everything. 

“ You can cheer yourself with the thought that you 
have the best husband in the world. I know him as no 
one else does, except his mother and Dinah. How noble 
it was of him to give up his great hopes in life for his 
mother’s sake, and do it in such a noble way, and be 
so cheerful and pleasant over it, with never one word of 
complain to her, nor to any one else. There is the glory 
of self-sacrifice. Who would want any one to do any- 
thing for them, if it had to be done grudgingly and un- 
willingly? I would not, and then have it grumbled 
over afterwards.” 

“ Nor I either,” said Margaret. It would be like 
death to me.” 

As they were speaking, the object of their thoughts 
came in to see how Margaret was getting along, and to 
give a few cheering words to strengthen courage, and 
give hope, something to cling to. 


GLENWOOD. 


247 


He repressed the terms of endearment that always 
leaped from his heart to his lips, but he took the thin 
hand in his own, and looked down into the fathomless 
eyes, beaming with the old love-light, and stooped to 
leave a kiss. Margaret’s hands clasped his neck, as they 
had not done before in long weeks. She made his heart 
rejoice with new hope by giving a lingering kiss, where 
the great artery sent up the blood warm from the heart 
that throbbed so devotedly for her. 

The tall form straightened with new vigor. He 
stepped with a greater feeling of strength for the prom- 
ising change he saw in Margaret; and with a smile of 
joy he tossed back a kiss on leaving the room. 

When Dinah heard the glad news that Margaret was 
better, she put her shining face into the door, to charge 
Mrs. Wilmer not to talk Missy Margaret ter de’f,” 
and at the same time shaking her fat fist at the visitor, 
telling her what she would do, “ if she tired Missy 
Marg’et out wid her blab.” 

Margaret smiled, and the black face vanished, with 
the promise of some of “ de bes’ broff in de worl’, when 
Marser Ralph got back.” 

Mrs. Wilmer took from a basket which she had 
brought with her, a loaf of brown bread, which many 
people like for its sweetness; and with it, an antique 
sugar bowl, filled with preserved raspberries. 

Margaret looked at the relic of long ago, which of it- 
self would have been prized by many for its age, and for 
the secrets it kept of times long past. Transparent and 
frail as it was, it had outlasted generations of strong 
hearts, and strong forms that had long since crumbled 
into dust. 

It don’t take the sick long to learn that food tastes 
better, if it comes from somewhere else, even if it is not 


248 


GLENWOOD. 


half as good,” said Mrs. Wilmer. “ I know how Dinah 
can cook, but if you don’t relish what I have brought, 
I am sure you will kindly take the will for the deed. I 
wanted to show my sympathy and regard for you, and 
could not think of anything else that I had, which I 
thought you would care for.” 

I thank you for thinking of me, and I thank you 
also for what you have brought,” said Margaret. “ I 
feel hungry for it already, but think I will wait till the 
broth comes. I am fond of brown bread and I like 
raspberries.” 

“ Can’t you take a nap now, while I keep perfectly 
still ? ” asked Mrs. Wilmer. “ Sleep brings healing to 
the sick. We all know that it is ISTature’s great re- 
storer.” 

“ l^ot yet. Please talk to me. Tell me of yourself, 
if you would not object to it.” 

“ ITot in the least, my dear. I have had Mrs. Glen- 
wood and her son to aid me, so I have a pretty little cot- 
tage of my own, in the village. My niece lives with me, 
and we keep house together. She is a good soul, and 
cares better for me, than I care for myself. Mr. Glen- 
wood and his mother bought the place for us twelve 
years ago. It was old, but he had it built over, and put 
everything in nice shape, and gave us the deed. If one 
has never been without a home, they cannot think what 
thanksgivings have gone up from my heart for it, and 
for blessings on them, all the days of their lives. 

“ We planted fruit trees, and smaller fruit on the 
half acre of ground, and find a ready sale for all it 
yields. We have a nice place for fowls. Our plot slopes 
down to Deacon Baisley’s meadow-land where the brook 
is, so the chickens can do no harm. The land is low, 
and never gets plowed, so no words come to us against 


GLENWOOD. 


249 


them. Poultry and eggs are usually in demand, so by 
living carefully we have got along well. No small aid 
has come from Glenwood also, in milk and many other 
things, to show that we are not forgotten. But few 
gentlemen of Mr. Glenwood’s standing would put them- 
selves out of the way, as he has done for us. Any 
harm that comes to Glenwood, comes to me, you may be 
sure of that. I cannot tell you how I prayed for you, 
and for them, during your illness. 

“ My niece takes in fine washing. You know how 
people dread to see fine clothing go into the hands of 
careless washer-women, or let servants handle it. 
Needlework and embroidery suffer on the wash-board, 
rubbed out with heavy hands, and no mercy for the soap 
that soon destroys the clothing. Lucy is sparing of 
soap, and she always washes needlework and frail arti- 
cles by squeezing them carefuly. Since people have 
found it out, and see how much longer the garments 
last, she has all the work we can both do, with safety 
to ourselves. 

“ Our home was out of the village at first, but as the 
village has grown, it has taken it in, which has increased 
its value considerably. 

“ I got married, but nothing went right. My hus- 
band was of the do-nothing stamp, so we changed around 
from one place to another, and from one thing to an- 
other, but nothing brought us a living. He wanted me 
to go out washing. I refused to do it for a man in good 
health. I was willing to go on a farm with him, and do 
my utmost for our mutual benefit. He said the work 
was too hard for him, so I said that washing was too 
hard for me. He expected a living to come without 
work, but it never did. He had opportunities to take a 
farm on shares, several times. I begged and besought 


250 


GLENWOOD. 


him to accept some such offer, but only received hard 
words for my entreaties. 

At last he declared he would leave me, if I would 
not go out washing for our support, and as I still ad- 
hered to my determination not to gratify him in his ex- 
actions, he carried out his oft-repeated threat, and left 
me to fight the battle of life alone. Providence was 
better than my fears, and opened an unexpected home 
for me here at Glenwood. 

heard that Mrs. Glenwood wanted a care-taker 
for her children, and one not too young. She was away 
with the Judge a great deal at that time in fashionable 
society. He was very proud of her grace and beauty. 
They were a loving couple. Ah me! what changes 
time can make ! 

“ She wanted some one trusty and reliable. I knew 
I could be all that, as I had always been. So I came 
at once, and found the best home in the world. I was 
very sore at heart for a long time. I had loved my hus- 
band, and I could not keep from grieving over the 
separation, but I knew from eight years’ experience it 
would never be any better. 

“ At last I became reconciled, as much so as one can 
bo, whose love has been thrown away and whose hopes 
have been blasted for life. I found, as most of us do, 
that the ghost of what might have been, will not always 
lie in its grave. It will rise up and haunt us, and set 
us grieving anew, in spite of the lapse of years or the 
flight of time. 

“ Ralph was a new-born baby then,” she resumed 
thoughtfully. Frederick was three years old. But 
here I have gone on tiring you out, in spite of Dinah’s 
caution, and regardles of her threats.” 

Oh, no! ” exclaimed Margaret. “ It has rested me. 


GLENWOOD. 


251 


I had forgotten myself entirely. I have no pain to 
keep me mindful of my condition, so I shall be the 
better for listening, if I do not talk. It is so weari- 
some to lie and wait for health and strength. No one 
can realize how hard it is until one comes to it.” 

I know it, my dear. I will change your position 
again, and give you drink and more fresh air.” 

“ And talk more,” supplemented Margaret. 

If I do, I may make you worse.” But seeing how 
bright Margaret seemed, she continued her story, or 
rather her conversation to interest the weary conva- 
lescent. 

“ As Frederick and Kalph grew older, so that one 
could judge something of the nature of each, I thought 
no woman was ever so blessed in her children. Two 
nobler boys never lived. The older they grew, the more 
they showed their worth and manliness.” And then 
she told of the little girl who belonged to a fairer world 
than this, and went home to her native heaven. 

“ It nearly killed Mrs. Glenwood to lose husband and 
children; for in losing them, she lost more than most 
women, and more than words of mine can tell you. 
You know what your husband is, and the longer you 
know him, the better you will love him. His excellence 
of character is not all on the surface, like veneering — 
only for show. It lies deep down in the depths of his 
nature, and Frederick was like him. Both had the 
same stability of mind and heart — ^free from anything 
small, mean or unmanly. 

There are men in the world who are lower in 
morality than the beasts of the field. There are also 
many men who glorify the name of manhood, aud are 
true knights of honor, and one of the noblest and best 
of these, is Kalph Glenwood, your husband.” 


252 


GLENWOOD. 


Margaret’s heart bounded with joy. She lifted her 
hand to shade her eyes and conceal the happy tears that 
could not be held in check. 

She knew that Mrs. Wilmer had had a better oppor- 
tunity of knowing him than even Dr. Benton, whose 
words in his behalf had given her new life, and made 
her eager to rest her tired head on his bosom, and ask 
forgiveness for having ever doubted him. 

“ But few thought that Kalph would ever marry,” 
continued Mrs. Wilmer, “ he had kept heart-whole so 
long ; but mercy knows, it was sickening to see the girls 
and women angle for him, almost ceaselessly. But it 
did no good. He was polite to all, and treated all 
alike, and devoted himself to his mother, his business 
and his books. 

‘‘ His imported stock and his farming, is something 
that seemed to please him; at any rate, he has been 
most faithful and successful in it. 

“ Some girls have acted shamefully around him. I 
have often wondered what his thoughts were concern- 
ing them. But he was too honorable to speak ill, no 
matter what he thought. Girls are often misjudged in 
such cases, when they are only silly, and covet flattery 
and attention, and are innocent at heart, for all that. 

“ Ealph Glenwood was considered a great catch. 
His property was thought to be well worth looking 
after, by the fathers and mothers, you may be sure. 

I wonder that you are allowed to possess him in 
peace. It was said that his marriage caused great dis- 
appointment in some families. There were those who 
had not yet given up hope. Young ladies still came 
here to visit, and of course, gentlemanliness compelled 
him to go out with them occasionally. We who knew 
him best, knew he would never marry unless he loved ; 


GLENWOOD. 


253 


and that if he did love it would be for life, and for- 
ever. We were sure of that. You ought to be the 
happiest wife in the world, since all that has been so 
coveted has fallen to your lot.” 

Margaret saw that Mrs. Wilmer knew nothing of 
what had transpired, and was ignorant of the cause of 
her illness, so her words carried double weight, and 
sunk deep into her heart. 

“ Mr. Glenwood has been very happy since his mar- 
riage, till your illness came. He has often spoken to 
me concerning you, whenever he has brought me milk 
and other things that Mrs. Glenwood has kindly sent 
me. I wanted to come and see you, but I thought that 
you might not care for an old woman who was Mrs. 
Glenwood’s nurse for her children, and poor at 
that.” 

“ I should have cared all the more,” said Margaret, 
“ and I think the more of him, because he has not for- 
gotten or neglected you, though I know he would not 
have cared for you so much, if you had been as false to 
your trust as some are.” 

“ True, my dear, I have always tried to be on the side 
of duty and of right. It has not always looked to be 
the smoothest path, when I had to decide one way or 
another. But, if there were no conflicts, and no temp- 
tations nor crosses, there would be no crown. The right 
way is the best way in all things. If we have any 
Christian teaching or any sense, it does not take long 
for us to learn that fact, and then we have the approval 
of conscience, which is better than all praise ; though I 
have heard people talk of conscience, when it was some- 
thing they never possessed, and they only preached it, 
in the vain hope of deceiving others.” 

“ You ought to have taught school,” said Margaret. 


254 


GLENWOOD. 


“ Your ideas and principles are so correct, and they 
are based on sound doctrine.” 

‘‘ My education was considered very fair in my 
young days. I have, in a measure, tried to keep up 
with the occurrences of the times, as well as I could 
with my limited time for it, and having to work for a 
living. All cannot be teachers. There must be hewers 
of wood and drawers of water; but the time will come 
when educators will have to teach morality, and some- 
thing of the duties of life, as well as the three ‘ E-’s ’ 
that have been so much quoted. 

I taught Mrs. Glenwood’s children when I was 
with them. She did the same, and it has borne good 
fruit. It was not only taught, but lived up to. They 
were well-born in the first place, and that is a great 
deal, in my opinion. I am sure of one thing, I never 
taught them any ill. The first lesson many children 
learn of servants, is to deceive their parents, as the serv- 
ants themselves do, many of them, at every oppor- 
tunity. That is the foundation for a thousand other 
sins and evils. 

“ It would be a better world than it is, if mothers 
always knew, or cared, who or what the hirelings are 
who have charge of their children, while they are busy 
with fashion and pleasure.” 

Then she told of what we all know, that foreign 
ignorance, falsity, and superstition should not have the 
molding of a child’s character in its early years. 

Who has not had a peep behind the scenes ? and who 
has not noticed the results in the way many well-born 
children turn out, in spite of parental prayers and fond 
hopes? and how often the coffin receives the occupant 
of the cradle for the falsity and neglect of the nurse, 
when the mother does not know it. 


GLENWOOD. 


255 


They do not always know of the many pernicious 
things given to eat, and the narcotics, or the stupefying 
drugs, and taking them out for air and letting them 
stand still, with tender throat and lungs exposed to 
chilling winds, while the care-taker gossips with some 
chance acquaintance, and lets the baby face death with- 
j out knowing it. Such things are not dispensations of 
Providence, as they are usually termed, but dispen- 
' sations of wrong, and criminal neglect. Who is not 
aware that these misdemeanors are done every day, 
making empty cradles in mourning homes. It is 
enough to drive even a passing stranger half frantic to 
see it; and who does not long to snatch the little ones 
from their peril, and carry them home, and preach the 
mothers a sermon on the violated laws of life? One 
would be considered a hero, who would snatch a baby 
from death by drowning, and yet, the peril of many of 
these little ones is scarcely less, and death is often as 
sure, if not as sudden, and the suffering far greater. 

Mrs. Wilmer, seeing Margaret’s interest in a sub- 
ject of which Margaret had given but little thought in 
her secluded life, went on to mention other evils result- 
ing from the unwritten wrongs of the infant children of 
prosperous homes. 

“ The nerves of thousands of little ones are ruined,” 
she continued, “ and ruined for life, by the bug-bear 
stories told them to keep them quiet with the stupefac- 
tion of fear. Many of them live a life of absolute ter- 
ror. Often painful nervous diseases are the result in 
after years, it not heart disease itself. Children should 
be questioned in regard to such things before the injury 
is too great to be remedied, though often a vast deal of 
harm is done, before the child can talk, even if it es- 
capes with its life. Questioning does not always do, 


256 


GLENWOOD. 


either, for they are often taught to lie in regard to what 
the nurse or servants do when not seen. 

“ Nobody knows better than Mrs. Glenwood that 
mother-love should guard the tender little things from 
all such fatal ills, instead of decking them in the need- 
less trappings of fashion, which really add nothing to 
the beauty of childhood, but greatly restrict its free- 
dom for exercise and play, and thereby weaken the 
child’s constitutional vigor and shorten, or injure life. 

“ Mrs. Glenwood was a woman of remarkable sense. 
She gave her first thoughts to the best good of her chil- 
dren. It was not what they liked; but what was best 
for them, till self-denial became easy, and was practiced 
with much heroic and manly pride. 

I had the baby sister in the orchard, one day, 
where the men were gathering apples. The boys were 
helping them, as the Judge insisted on their not giving 
the whole of life to play, nor to study. I assisted them 
part of the time, when the baby was quiet in her little 
carriage, as there was no wind to injure her. I could 
see no use in being idle while others were at work, as 
I was well and strong. I was wearing a new calico 
dress that I felt considerable pride in, and had taken 
great pains not to soil it. Ealph in his play had thrown 
a partly decayed apple at a bird. It turned in his hand 
and hit my shoulder. The poor fellow felt dreadfully 
and tried to help clean it off. I had to go and wash it 
out, and the color came with it. His handsome face 
looked sober enough, in spite of my trying to make 
light of the accident. He was always a sensitive boy. 
When work was done, near night, he spoke a few words 
to his mother and then he was missing. When it was 
getting dark he returned, steaming and puffing with a 
bundle under his arm. He had taken all the money he 


GLENWOOD. 257 

possessed, and had bought me a dress ten times prettier 
than the one I had prized so much. 

“ His mother sat down hj his side, and wiped and 
kissed his white forehead, over and over, and smiled her 
love into his happy face, till tears came into my own 
eyes to see it. I have that dress yet, in a bedquilt, 
and have some of the new pieces that are as bright as 
when it was first bought.” 

Give me a piece of it to keep, won’t you, please ? ” 
asked Margaret, eagerly. 

“ I would most gladly, but Mr. Glenwood might not 
like to have me tell the little incident, that showed his 
keen conscientiousness and his strict sense of justice 
and of right. He never likes to have his good deeds 
trumpeted abroad, whether they are great or small, as 
he does not do them for that purpose. With his nature, 
he cannot help doing good, any more than a song-bird 
can keep from singing.” 

“ He would not object to your telling me such things, 
I am sure, since it gives me pleasure to hear them. He 
knows how I love to see even the cradle he was rocked 
in.” 

Yes, and I rocked him in that same cradle, and so 
did Dinah at times.” 

Just then Dinah came into the room to say something 
that pleased her greatly, if her broad smile told any- 
thing, or the twinkling of her eyes. 

“ Dat good-fur-nufiin’ Pete ought to hab ebery knot 
ob wool pulled outer his stupid pate. I has had too 
much trouble wid him, afore dis time ob life, an’ yet he 
don’t know nuffin’ at all. I fought it was time we hab 
some ob dem water-creshes, so I sent him down to de 
pon’ ter see if dey is ready ter eat. De clumsy calf 
just tumbled in head fust, an’ de bank was so steep he 


258 


GLENWOOD. 


couldn’t back out, so he had ter flop roun’ an’ crawl out, 
like a murd turtle. He was soaked trou’ an’ trou’, an’ 
had ter stan’ an’ shibber, while I got clean close fur 
him, trou’out. I laughed an’ was mad, too, ’cause he 
dripped on my clean oilclo’, so he stan’s dar, stickin’ 
out his lips, mos’ like you could set on ’em wid de 
rockin’ cheer.” 

She laughed until she shook all over, and Mrs. Wil- 
mer could not help joining in her mirth. Margaret 
caught the infection, too, and laughed until the tears 
came, though she pitied Pete for the mishap and for 
the discomfort it occasioned him. 

“ Dat’s de reason, honey, dat de broff ain’t b’iled 
’nough yit. Pete couldn’t skin dat gray squirrel, an’ 
Marser Kalph was called off in a big hurry, an’ had ter 
tend ter business, ’cause a man wanted ter buy some ob 
dem katchmoles, so I had ter skin dat squir’l, an’ I 
ain’t no great hand at sich t’ings. I felt I had rudder 
skin Pete fur bein’ so clumsy, an’ putting dat broff 
back. It took me mos’ furebber, ’cause I didn’t know 
how ter do dat little chore. You has waited too long, 
honey, an’ I is sorry fur it.” 

Dinah was gone, but soon returned with the broth. 
Ralph Glenwood came with a bouquet of wondrous 
loveliness, and with a smile as bright as the flowers, 
which met answereing smiles on Margaret’s face, 
brighter than the flowers she held in her hand. He 
placed her in the soft depths of an easy-chair, and sat 
by her, gladdened and cheered at the happy change for 
the better. He saw her eat with new relish, and with 
the sunshine of hope lighting up her eyes into their 
former splendor. When she was urged to lie down 
shortly afterwards, she readily complied, and was 


GLENWOOD. 259 

soon asleep, breathing stronger; a slight color tinging 
her cheeks, like the faint blush of a wild rose. 

Mrs. Wilmer took her leave after seeing to the wel- 
fare of Mrs. Glenwod, whom she found much improved 
and refreshed. 

Ralph Glenwood stole softly into Margaret’s room 
and took his seat by the bedside, where he could feast 
his eyes in almost worshiping adoration on the treasure 
that had been handed back to him from the very gates 
of the grave. He could not take his eyes from her fair 
face, but watched her, while the soft breath, came and 
went through the slightly parted lips that just revealed 
the perfect teeth. 

He noticed how much more lifelike she seemed, 
though so thin and wasted, yet wondrously lovely. 
There was an expression of peace and repose that her 
face had not worn before, since Ralph Glenwood went 
away on business, and May Shirling was their guest. 

He did not know how his own eyes brightened and 
sparkled with the happiness which had come to him in 
the glad thought that Margaret was better, and once 
more believed in his loyalty and love. The kiss she 
gave on his neck had filled him with life and joy all 
day, and had thrilled his flagging pulses, and sent them 
bounding with constantly increasing strength and 
vigor. 

He waited patiently for sleep to bring all the good 
possible to Margaret, hoping that she might bless him 
with a waking kiss, till another thought flashed over his 
mind, as he remembered the lesson of a woman’s love, 
read to him by his mother, from the pages of a woman’s 
heart when she is wounded in her affections. He then 
determined to be first in showing Margaret his undevi- 
ating love and devotion, and set to rest the distrust and 


260 


GLENWOOD. 


anguish that had filled her with life-destroying grief 
and regret, because she had married him. 

Mrs. Glenwood stepped softly to the door and looked 
into the room and met a smile on the face of her son, 
like nothing she had seen in many weeks. She turned 
away and went to her own room and rejoiced over the 
news that Dinah had told her of Margaret’s improve- 
ment, which was confirmed by what she saw when she 
looked into the face of her son. 

When Margaret opened her fathomless eyes and met 
the look of love and joy in the face bending over her, 
her smile was brighter than anything that her coun- 
tenance had worn, since her illness. Her head was 
quickly gathered to its old resting place on her hus- 
band’s bosom, and her face was covered with kisses as 
of old, before the gulf opened between them and happi- 
ness was a thing of the past. 


GLENWOOD. 


261 


CHAPTER XXL 

MES. GLENWOOD AND MAEGAEET AT THE SEASIDE. 

In the days that came and went, strength came with 
them for Margaret, while the whole household rejoiced 
in it. Ralph Glenwood’s heart was a psalm of thanks- 
giving, as the love-light came back to her eyes, and her 
face and figure began to fill out into rounded curves and 
symmetrical proportions. Mrs. Glenwood presented 
her with an elegantly embroidered wrapper of garnet 
thibet, with soft ruchings of rare lace at the throat and 
wrists, which became her passing well. Margaret hon- 
ored the gift by wearing it the first time Ralph Glen- 
wood carried her out in his arms for a drive after she 
had waited long weeks to see the outside world again. 

Anxious love watched every step of her progress over 
the tedious path of convalescence. Tender care and 
loving words strengthened hope and courage, and robbed 
the days of much of their length and weariness. 

There was great rejoicing when she could walk even 
a few steps, and could go out again. Pete threw up his 
heels in the air in spite of Dinah’s caution about driv- 
ing his head into the ground. 

Soft rose tints stole into the cheeks of the still beauti- 
ful mother, as she looked on the happiness of Ralph 


262 


GLENWOOD. 


and Margaret, after the long peril was passed, and the 
shadow of death had been lifted from the household 
leaving the chain of love unbroken. 

Though there was no mistaking Ralph Glenwood’s 
happiness, there was a deeper gravity in his manner 
ever afterwards. Neither he nor his mother could for- 
get the shuddering anguish they had passed through 
when Margaret was stricken down like a frost-blighted 
flower, and hope was dead within them ; so they received 
her into their arms again a second time, as a gift from 
God, and blessed Him for it in thankful content. 

When spring came, with its soft, life-giving air, 
and Glenwood was in full glory of bud and blossom, it 
was decided that Mrs. Glenwood and Margaret should 
go to the seaside in some quiet retreat to hasten Mar- 
garet’s recovery. 

Though driving out had beneflted her greatly, she 
was still weak, and Dr. Benton ordered change of air. 

It did not take long to get ready, as there was no 
thought of fashion or dress for the occasion. Ralph 
Glenwood accompanied them, but could not stay long, 
since necessity did not compel it. It was seed-time, and 
the demands of business were imperative, yet he went 
back and forth as often as possible to cheer Margaret 
and his mother with his presence and rejoice over Mar- 
garet’s rapid improvement. 

She reveled in constant joy at the sight of the ocean 
with its ceaseless pulsations and foam-crested waves. 
She never wearied of seeing them break on the sand and 
retreat, while others took their places in unvaried suc- 
cession, even when storm and wind lashed them into 
wild fury, and sent them rolling in, as if they were 
bidden to tell in all haste of what was going on at sea, 
or what was lying beneath the wild waves. It seemed 


GLENWOOD. 263 

to her that every pulsation brought new life and strength 
to her frame, and tone and vigor to every nerve. 

While they were away, Ralph Glenwood fulfilled his 
agreement to have the wood sold for Mrs. Blair. It 
would have been done sooner, had not the purchaser 
wished it to season longer. 

He found as many willing hands and ready hearts 
as he had predicted to Mrs. Blair. Nearly a score of 
teams turned out to draw away the wood, and made a 
grand frolic of the whole affair. The party in their 
boisterous glee, voted Ralph Glenwood President and 
head teamster to lead off the procession. 

Dick Shirling was a looker-on, while his father’s 
men were loading up two loads ready for a start, but 
Dick sent one of them home, and mounted the load him- 
self, and wheeled into line, next to Ralph Glenwood. 

There were three rousing cheers for Glenwood and 
Shirling, President and Vice-President of the affair, 
and then the others followed in close succession, Dutch 
Dedrich bringing up the rear. 

When the afternoon work was done, Ralph Glenwood 
invited them all to the village inn, to take supper, 
which had been previously ordered. It was nicely 
gotten up, but when the leader of the party came to 
settle for the feast, the landlord presented him with a 
receipted bill, much to his astonishment. Each man 
had slyly paid his own, with the determination of not 
doing a good thing by halves. None of them would 
ever tell who had paid for Ralph Glenwood’s supper, 
which was meant for a joke, also. 

Dedrich kept looking at the president of the concern 
in an uneasy and hesitating way for a time, and then 
spoke like a bugle in war time : “ Ish you goin’ der 

dreat ? ” 


264 


GLENWOOD. 


A rather broad laugh spread over the faces present, 
as they knew their leader’s principles, and did not be- 
lieve that he would swerve from them. “ I will,” he 
replied with a pleasant smile, as he ordered the land- 
lord to hand down a jar of candy, and to prepare lemon- 
ade, with nothing added, except nutmeg, which was 
done in short order. 

A shout went up that fairly shook the decanters be- 
hind the bar. Dedrich’s face was a study, though he 
joined in the laugh, which helped materially in swell- 
ing the volume of sound; and in that way, no doubt, 
drowned much of his disappointment. 

Still his eyes would revert to the decanters with a 
longing expression, and then to Ealph Glenwood, speak- 
ing as plainly as face and eyes could speak, without the 
medium of words. The candy was at hand, and each 
man was asked to help himself, and none ventured to 
say how much he preferred something else. 

Dick Shirling was the first to put in his hand for the 
candy. He took a stick and held it in his teeth, while 
he took two or three more and put them in his pocket. 
Each man followed his example, and what was left was 
poured into Dedrich’s hands. His smile was as broad 
as his face, as he thought of the little ones at home, and 
replied, “ Dat ish ferry goot.” 

Ealph Glenwood spoke a few words to the landlord’s 
son, and soon a basket of fine oranges appeared, and the 
men were again told to help themselves. Two or three 
fell to the lot of each, and the remainder were given to 
Dedrich, who said with a still broader smile, “ Dat is 
ferry goot,” but they were evidently not what he 
wanted. 

Ealph Glenwood settled the bill, and the men and 
teams took their departure, with the exception of 


GLENWOOD. 


265 


Dedrich, who stayed to have a few private words with 
the landlord concerning certain brands of liquor that 
he wished to sample without having to ‘‘ stand treat.” 

The teams left the village in procession, the same as 
they had entered it, with many masculine voices cheer- 
ing, and small boys beseeching them for rides. They 
loaded up with a score or more of the irrepressibles, 
and bore their uproarious hilarity for a time, till they 
concluded that the fun was too much on one side, so 
they halted and discharged cargo, with a feeling of im- 
mense relief. 

There were two very happy women in the little 
brown cot by the woods, when Ealph Glenwood took the 
money to Mrs. Blair. Susie was sent immediately to 
deposit it on interest, not feeling safe with it in the 
house. With their prudence and economy the sum 
seemed like a small fortune. They were at a loss for 
words to thank Ealph Glenwood as they wished to thank 
him. They longed to express their gratitude to all tho 
others also, for the aid given for their benefit, when 
they could not hope to return it in any way. 

The remainder of the wood was to be sold in the 
autumn and was engaged to the same parties, which was 
another pleasant thought to cheer their lonely hours. 
To add to their joy, Susie’s eldest son came home from 
sea. Binding that his mother was a widow, he con- 
cluded to stay at home and look after the welfare of the 
two lonely souls, who had seen so much of heartache and 
sorrow. He proposed to fill the place of a handy man 
in the neighborhood, to do odd jobs that might bo 
needed, and, being faithful, close-mouthed and indus- 
trious, he was always in demand, and gave good satis- 
faction. 

After consulting with Mrs. Blair, he decided that 


266 


GLENWOOD. 


they might have a better home. The timber was grow- 
ing on their own premises which could be sawed for 
framing, siding and flooring. He could put up the 
building himself at odd times, when he could be spared 
from other work. So another year made a great change. 
The new house was commenced, and was added to the 
old one, which was made over to serve as the kitchen 
part, making it altogether a very pretty and comfort- 
able home, with but a small outlay of means. 

They had felt adversity enough to rejoice over their 
small but continued prosperity, as only they can re- 
joice who have suffered privation, sorrow, and pinch- 
ing want. 

Kalph Glenwood and Margaret were looked upon as 
the founders of it all, through their ministrations in 
Mrs. Blair’s illness, when the inmates of the little 
brown cot were nearly hopeless, and they could not 
think or believe that any lasting good could come to 
them in this life. The illness that had appeared so 
disastrous in their poverty, and which was so hard for 
the aged mother to bear, they now saw was the step- 
ping-stone to better and brighter days. 


GLENWOOD. 


267 


CHAPTER XXIL 

DEATH OP MAY SHIELING. A SON AND HEIR AT GLEN- 
WOOD. 

When June came in full-leaved glory, Mrs. Glen- 
wood and Margaret returned from the seaside, as Mar- 
garet considered herself fully recovered, and much as 
she loved the sea, she longed to be at home again. 

She saw Glenwood for the first time in its summer 
splendor. Her happy heart could hardly contain her 
rapturous joy as she feasted her eyes on her loved ones 
once more, amid the beauty that surrounded her. She 
did not wonder that the serpent entered this Eden of 
love, as in Paradise of old, but May Shirling never 
came again. Ere many weeks had passed, death 
claimed her instead of Margaret Glenwood. 

Kind friends called to congratulate Margaret on 
her return to health. She was as blithe and joyous as 
ever, feeling that it would be wrong to be otherwise, 
when all which had seemed lost, was given back to her ; 
health, home and loving friends, and an unclouded sky 
of happiness above and around her. 

She was always busy at something, making new 
brightness and beauty everywhere. Her presence 
brought back the sunshine and brightness to the ele- 
gant home again, and her pleasant voice and sweet, low 


268 


GLENWOOD. 


singing, filled it with music more captivating than the 
songs of birds. Mother and son lavished upon her un- 
told wealth of love and tenderness, which was all the 
more tender and watchful for the peril she had passed 
through. 

In early August, Ealph Glenwood and Margaret 
went to the seaside and mountains for a few weeks. 
Mrs. Glenwood went with them for a short stay, and 
then returned home, saying that she could rest better 
there, as she was getting towards the time of life when 
there is but little desire to mingle with the outside 
world. Home and home interests furnished for her all 
the elements of peaceful content. 

Ealph Glenwood and Margaret returned, and were 
met with a glad welcome, even from clumsy Pete, with 
his odd demonstrations of delight, like the gambols of 
a Newfoundland dog. Aunt Dinah, in showy dress and 
gay turban, was full of quaint expressions of joy, her 
eyes showing that she could not express it all, even at 
that. The Glenwoods felt that the home picture would 
be incomplete without her. 

With the joy of home-coming there was a throb of 
sorrow, as Margaret was summoned to the bedside of 
May Shirling, and sadly hastened to obey it. She could 
not rejoice that her enemy had fallen. Her earnest 
desire was that May might live — but death, that solemn 
leveler of human hopes and aspirations, had already 
laid his hand upon her, and she knew that she must die. 

May Shirling’s love of pleasure had been her death. 
The summer had been unusually warm. She had 
tried to be the gayest of the gay at fashionable water- 
ing places, regarding pleasure more than the laws of 
life or health, till it was too late to retrace her steps. 
Overheating the blood in the violent exercise of danc- 


GLENWOOD. 


269 


ing, with impeded crculation from having her plump 
figure compressed in the space allotted to slender girls, 
her vital organism was fatally injured, and death 
claimed her as a victim. 

She sent for Margaret to ask for prayer and forgive- 
ness, knowing that there was no hope. Gently and ten- 
derly Margaret ministered to the dying girl, trying to 
make smoother her passage from time to Eternity, and 
pointing the troubled spirit to God who gave it. 

Soon all was over, and all that was mortal of May 
Shirling reposed in the beautiful cemetery of Cypress 
Glade, while weeping friends went sorrowfully home 
without her. 

It was Margaret’s nature to suffer when others suf- 
fered. She was looking paler and thinner than usual, 
which caused much anxiety in her behalf. Great as her 
wrongs had been, she mourned deeply for the life that 
had passed away. She gladly would have saved May 
Shirling, had it been possible. 

Once more the Angel of Peace folded its wings over 
Glenwood, and they were at rest again. The days and 
weeks glided peacefully and quietly away. Autumn 
came, and touched the earth with glowing hand, and 
brightened it with royal coloring, as the fruitage of the 
year was being garnered, after fulfilling the summer’s 
cheering promise of plenty. 

The anniversary of Margaret’s wedding day came, 
and was celebrated with the Harvest Home festival, 
among themselves, in a quiet way, no guests being in- 
vited. 

October soon merged into November. Thanksgiving, 
as usual, was honored with thankful hearts. Margaret 
remembered the parsonage, and also sent a duplicate of 
last year’s gifts to her old home, that the day might be 


270 


GLENWOOD. 


honored there, with the thought that they were to be 
clothed at least for many months to come. 

They never expected anything more from Margaret, 
as she had given so much ; so their astonishment was as 
great as their joy, the same as it had been the previous 
year, when Mrs. Gray had no idea that she would ever 
have anything to give thanks for, any more than she 
had in the past. 

Margaret’s name had been a household word, and all 
the more so with Mrs. Gray, because her husband never 
liked to hear it. His conscience was less at ease than 
ever, on account of the helpful gifts which came to 
his needy family, from the kindness of the daughter, 
who was so like her mother. It was a painful reminder 
of what he had lost through ill-treatment and neglect. 
He felt that they were undeserving of the aid which 
Margaret had given them, but she had bestowed it in 
a way that it could do the most good, in such a case as 
theirs. 

At Glenwood it seemed but a step from Thanksgiv- 
ing to Christmas, but there were no preparations for 
festivities nor feasting. 

A shadow hovered over the beautiful home, and none 
could say what the end might be. There was great 
anxiety and apprehension, which grew deeper on 
Christmas eve, and through the night. Just before 
dawn, it lifted. The cloud rolled away, and the sun- 
light of gladness beamed with unwonted splendor, with 
a new element of joy in it. Margaret presented her 
husband with a son and heir to Glenwood. 

They were sure that she had never looked so un- 
earthly beautiful, with her face lit up with the splendor 
of her eyes, beaming with the new joy of motherhood 
with its freshly unsealed fountain of tenderness. 


GLENWOOD. 


271 


Ealph Glenwood felt uneasy. He thought she 
seemed too frail and beautiful for earth, and feared 
that the angels might claim her as their own. The 
Doctor was consulted in regard to it, but he saw no 
occasion for alarm. He cheered the husband by saying 
that love and tender watch-care would bring her back 
to health again, as there was no evidence of disease. 

Her constitution, it is true, has been impaired by 
that long, low illness, and the shock that preceded it, 
when she thought that her idol was only clay, and false 
and base at that. It had left its mark on her physical 
organism in a way that could not be readily effaced. 

“ She will need to be more tenderly guarded and 
cared for during the remainder of life,” said the Doc- 
tor, but it needed no words to ask that boon for Mar- 
garet Glenwood. Loving care was always given as 
freely as the air she breathed. 

Visitors were excluded from the sick room till Mar- 
garet was well on the way to health again, but kind 
messages were sent from neighboring friends, and con- 
gratulations reached her from day to day. 

The sturdy youngster grew finely, and Margaret in- 
sisted that Mrs. Glenwood should name him; so with 
passionate love and kisses she called him Koyal. Ho 
child of her own had ever found a warmer welcome in 
her motherly heart, than did this one ; and it was soon 
evident that baby was king in the household, and that 
Pete was his most devoted slave. 

We must give a thank-offering, my darling,” said 
the happy husband and father, as he stooped to kiss the 
lovely face. I want you to decide where it shall be 
bestowed.” 

I think it would find most thankful acceptance at 
Mr. Alverton^s, and perhaps would meet pressing 


272 


GLENWOOD. 


need,” replied Margaret. “ I have seen their privations 
and self-denial, and I know there is no wastefulness 
there, and no extravagance. The people of his charge 
feel no lack — take them as a whole. Their tables groan 
with over-abundant plenty, while their pastor and his 
family often suffer for want of the necessities of life. 
Erom being a farming community, far from market, 
money is not plentiful among them ; but they might do 
better than they have done, for the clergyman who loves 
them and prays for their good, and mourns with them 
in their sorrow and rejoices with them in their joy.” 

“ I was thinking of them and of their kindly care 
of you, Margaret, in years passed. It shall be as you 
wish, my dear. Money is an ever-present friend, and 
will perhaps be most acceptable, as they no doubt see 
little enough of that article, and it may do them the 
most good. 

“ I will write them a brief note, telling of baby’s 
birth, and send the money by express, so that no one 
may know it, and the people need not scrimp them the 
more for receiving an unexpected gift. If a minister 
is not worth his salary, small as country salaries are, 
he has chosen the wrong calling. If he gives his serv- 
ices and his time to his people, as most of them do, he 
is worthy of his hire. The donations of friends have 
nothing to do with it. It is my opinion, there is a bit- 
ter account to answer for, in the way many ministers 
and their families have had to suffer with want and 
privations, which has no doubt cost many lives, directly, 
or indirectly; while, as you say, my dear, the tables of 
their people are overloaded with more than a healthful 
abundance. It is hard recompense for a minister’s 
self-denying labor of love for those who in this way so 
wrong and neglect these devoted servants of God.” 


GLENWOOD. 


273 


“ Have you seen it then, as I have seen it ? When I 
would barely eat enough to sustain life, because their 
supply was so small, and they did not know where more 
was coming from, when that was gone.” 

“ I have seen enough to make my heart ache, when it 
did come under my observation, and I have more than 
once sent secret relief.” 

“ I honor you the more for it,” was the young wife’s 
reply, as she lifted her hand to caress her husband’s 
cheek, as he sat by her bedside. 

“ A minister ought to have the satisfaction of feeling 
that he is having something to lay up ahead, if God 
should call him higher, so that his last hours may not 
be made bitter with the thought of leaving his family 
destitute. He knows they must have food, raiment and 
shelter, and though he commits them to the care of an 
Omnipotent Father, the world often forgets to succor, 
comfort and assist them, when their time of sorrow 
comes. 

“ I always think how hard it must be for the family, 
that they not only lose the husband and father, but lose 
the means of support, with nothing to fall back on, 
after he has given his life in the cause of Christ, in 
labor and care for the good of mankind.” 

“ Think of the clergyman and his wife and daugh- 
ters in old age,” said Margaret, when he can no longer 
take charge of his flock, and his salary has been too 
small to lay up any provision for the decline of life. 
It is pitiful and cruel in the extreme, that he and his 
family must be pinched with poverty and want, and 
shudder in fear of pauperism, after the long and faith- 
ful performance of duty in a high and holy calling. It 
is strange that Christian lands can be so remiss towards 
these high priests of the King of kings. 


274 


GLENWOOD. 


“ A fund should have been set aside and appropriated 
for such a need, and serve as a pension to draw from, 
for service done under the glorious banner of the cross. 
They should feel that it is a right, nobly earned, the 
same as a soldier proudly receives his pension, for 
services rendered to his country, and his wife receives 
it, when he is gone. 

The joy at Glen wood, struck an answering chord in 
that obscure parsonage, and made the careworn hearts 
and faces grow brighter and lighter. The Clergyman 
knelt, and the white wings of prayer were laden with 
thanksgiving and entreaties for Heaven's choicest bless- 
ing on the home and inmates of Glenwood, where the 
young immortal had so lately opened his eyes on the 
strange realities of life. 

Dinah never wearied of declaring, Dat no sich chile 
was ebber born inter dis worl’, not eben Marser Ralph 
Glenwood hisself when he was a baby." 

Mrs. Glenwood and Margaret were so infatuated 
with this new claimant on their love and care, that they 
did not feel inclined to dispute her assertion in the 
least. 

The happy father loved the small treasure with all a 
father's tenderness, and yet he marveled at the praise 
bestowed upon it. 

He thought from his heart that it looked more like 
an object of pity, than of pride. He had never seen a 
very young baby. He did not wonder that people usu- 
ally kept them out of sight if they looked like the child 
that was such a puzzling curiosity to him. He was away 
at school when his sister was born, so this baby was like 
nothing that had ever come under his eye. He was 
sure that the little red thing was not what a human 
being ought to be, in looks, at least, with such bleared 


GLENWOOD. 


275 


and curious looking eyes, and that lump of a nose, and 
a mouth of no particular shape at all, and with that 
strange and fussy way of breathing. It seemed in- 
capable of keeping its eyes open, and it evidently did 
not want to keep them closed. 

The shape of its head, or rather the slope of the cra- 
nium, gave him serious doubts of its ever possessing a 
human intellect. He did not wish to trouble Mar- 
garet with his new fears in regard to it, as he thought 
she would not know how it ought to look, anyway, and 
his mother was evidently too blind with love to see its 
glaring defects. He often asked to look at baby, which, 
to him, was a new and curious specimen of animal life. 

He was sure that it did not look any too promising 
for a human being. He puzzled his brains over it, in 
secret, and occasionally ventured to ask a question or 
two of his mother, and found her strangely unsympa- 
thetic in reference to his uneasiness and anxiety. It 
was a more serious matter to him than his mother 
thought possible, or she could not have laughed over it 
with Margaret in such unconcern. She at last told him 
that it looked no more unpromising than young bird- 
lings do, before their plumage is grown. 

A few weeks, however, made a great change, and 
baby’s face and head was something to be proud of. 
His father began to think, as others did, that baby was 
a very fine specimen of humanity after all. 

Margaret won her way back to health and strength, 
and could go out again as usual. Her lover-husband 
seemed more devoted and tender than ever, while Mrs. 
Glenwood watched her with fond pride and solicitude 
that was beautiful to see. She often repeated to her- 
self the lines of Jean Ingelow’s beautiful poem: 


276 


GLENWOOD. 


“ The sweetest woman ere drew breath, 
Was my son’s wife, Elizabeth.” 


It was a lifelong maxim with Mrs. Glenwood not to 
conceal her love, because it was one of the everyday 
affairs of life, and it was the more beautiful on that 
account; 

Several ladies called and opened a discussion in re* 
gard to a nurse for baby, and seemed astonished that 
Margaret had none, when her husband could so well 
afford it. 

“ He might possibly afford many other evils for 
him,” said Margaret with a smile. “ I call that a 
questionable good when it can be dispensed with, so I 
prefer to care for him myself. 

Margaret has a nurse,” said Mrs. Glenwood. ‘‘ I 
propose to personate Naomi, and nurse him for her, or 
do anything else that will guard his life, rather than 
trust him to a hireling. Death robs the cradle through 
them, oftener than mothers think or dream. It is bet- 
ter and safer for the child’s life and moral welfare to 
put it out to nurse in some plain family in the country, 
but there are plenty here to care for this one at home. 
Dinah has many a contest with Pete over baby, when 
we do not have him in charge. She claims that it is 
her right to care for him, and it is surprising the amount 
of time she finds for it, almost as if it were her chief 
business and occupation.” 

That settled the question for a nurse for baby, and 
no one wondered at it, and if they did, Mrs. Glenwood 
and Margaret would not have considered it worth notic- 
ing, and would not have given it a moment’s thought. 

When pleasant days came, it was noticeable that 
Pete’s sluggishness had passed its chrysalis stage. He 


GLENWOOD. 


277 


became a marvel of activity and energy, hurrying 
through every task and duty, that he might take care of 
baby and go out with him. His odd pranks kept the 
child in a perpetual flutter of delight, and Pete thought 
that baby was the only one who appreciated him at his 
full value. Dinah said it was because “ de chile had’n’t 
half growed into his sense yet, nor Pete nudder, as fur 
dat matter, no mo’ dan a calf.” 


278 


GLENWOOD. 


CHAPTER XXIIL 

DINAH AND PETE QTJAEEEL OVEE THE NEW BABY. 

Dinah often said wrathfully, and with much con- 
tempt of look anl tone : “ It don’t stan’ to no reason dat 
a great lazy gump like dat Pete iz half fit ter take care 
of dat baby. It takes some one of sense an’ ’sperience 
ter do dat little chore.” 

Pete was not open to conviction, so she found many 
odd jobs for him to do, when he was not otherwise em- 
ployed, till he really felt he was imposed upon, just 
because he loved baby and wanted to help take care of 
him. 

Baby’s mother and Mrs. Glenwood were often ap- 
pealed to, to settle disputes between them. Dinah 
usually came off victor, much to Pete’s discomfiture, 
and the amusement of Mrs. Glenwood and Margaret. 

Dinah had always prided herself on her ability to 
manage Pete, till baby came, and since then, she often 
found him strangely determined and obdurate, especi- 
ally where baby was concerned. 

The light-haired, blue-eyed scion of Glenwood stock 
was a healthy child of pleasant temper and rollicking 
fun. It did not seem long before he could trot around 
on his own sturdy legs, helping himself to all manner 
of mischief, unless constantly watched. 


GLENWOOD. 


279 


Pete had his day of triumph at last. He could throw 
the happy little youngster over his shoulders, and make 
off with him, in spite of Dinah’s protest, while the 
merry baby heart would bubble over with laughter and 
glee, and Pete’s coarse voice would chime in, till Dinah 
herself would laugh till her sides ached. 

She would say with a puzzled look on her ebony 
face : “ She didn’t see what dat chile could fin’ ter like 
in dat good-fur-nuffin Pete,” but he did like him, and 
Pete thought that he could not go even to the barn with- 
out the jolly little lump of humanity astride of his 
thick neck, happy as a king on his throne, and Pete 
just as happy under baby’s mild sway, as his devoted 
subject. 

When little Royal’s second birthday had passed, and 
spring had come with its resurrection of new life from 
the cold semblance of death, Glen wood rejoiced in the 
birth of a daughter. As Mrs. Glenwood looked into 
the eyes of this new darling, it seemed to her that God 
had given back to her arms the treasure He had taken 
so many years before. 

Ralph Glenwood gave himself no uneasiness now 
over the shape of the head, or the color of the skin. 
He only saw her as his own precious little daughter, 
with Margaret’s eyes and hair, and he was content. 

Every day he traced new beauty in the tiny face and 
form; even to the dimples in the cheeks, that showed 
themselves with the first smile that came in answer to 
his kisses. 

He rejoiced that Margaret was getting well again, 
and seemed even lovelier than ever. There arose a 
wonder in his mind, as to what more he could ask or 
wish, that could add to his earthly happiness, or could 
make his joy more complete. 


280 


GLENWOOD. 


Baby grew into wondrous beauty, and the happy 
father did not know how they could have thought that 
earth or life was complete without her. She seemed like 
a blossom of Eden, that had brought its sweetness and 
beauty with her, and she at once entwined herself 
closely with their heart-strings. 

Mrs. Glenwood thought that her own loving bosom 
was the only proper resting place for the little curly 
head. Margaret was glad to have it so, and often denied 
herself the pleasure of holding this new gift to her 
heart in order to confer greater comfort on Mrs. Glen- 
wood. 

All insisted that Margaret should name the baby, so 
she called her Florence, after her own mother, but it 
did not seem to cling to her. They called her Dove, 
Darling, and Blossom, as they did at first, when she had 
no other name, and all seemed alike familiar to her, as 
well as most fitting. 

The old quarrels between Dinah and Pete were re- 
newed over the new baby, that seemed even dearer than 
Royal had ever been. Pete loved his merry little play- 
fellow just as well as of old, but he thought he loved 
the baby still better. Though he was past seventeen, 
and almost grown to manhood, it was a delight worth 
squabbling over to gain possession of the little one, and 
take care of her, as he had cared for Royal. 

Dinah’s wrath could not be appeased in regard to 
it. She declared, “ dat little face shouldn’t be kissed 
wid dat great slobberin’ mouf, dat was nebber made fur 
kissin’, no mo’ dan de mouf ob a bar, dat only paws 
ober its cubs an’ cuffs ’em ter make ’em ’have darselbs. 

“ I guess Marser Ralph can find odder work fur 
dem big paws ob his’n, ’sides tendin’ baby, else it’s a 
small pattern he’ll git in de eatin’ line, if I knows what 


GLENWOOD. 


281 


I’s about, an’ I guess I duz, mos’ ob de time, ’cept I is 
flustered clean ter de’f wid his fool actions dat I is 
dead sick ob, afore dis time ob life.” 

Mrs. Glenwood and Margaret often tried to settle the 
disturbed current of Dinah’s thoughts that had run 
largely to Pete and his doings, and more especially his 
fondness for baby, instead of work. 


282 


.GLENWOOD. 


CHAPTEK XXIV.' 

A VISIT TO THE PARSONAGE AND AT THE GRAVE OF MAR- 

garet’s mother. 

In early September, Ralph Glenwood and Margaret 
decided to visit the Alverton’s, and take baby Florence 
with them. 

“ I have long wished to go there and visit mother’s 
grave,” said Margaret. 

“ So you shall, my pearl,” was the loving response, 
but we must have a nurse to take care of baby.” 

“ I do not wish it, Ralph. It would spoil all my 
pleasure. I never thought it right to visit in that way, 
and burden friends with the board and lodging, and the 
disagreeable presence of a servant, to see and hear 
everything that people do not want seen and heard, for 
fear of having it repeated. Such things cause gossip in 
a country neighborhood, and create unpleasant feelings. 
It is true that all servants do not belong to that class, 
but who could be sure that they do not ? It would not 
be the friends we visit. If people pay board for them- 
selves and a servant, the case is differnet. The parties 
can decide beforehand in regard to it. Even then, they 
are afraid of thieving fingers and meddlesome tongues.” 

“ I did not look at it in that light, my thoughtful 
darling, but I see that you are right. I only thought 
of sparing you from needless fatigue and trouble.” 

If my lady mother could take care of so many chil- 


GLENWOOD. 


283 


dren, and do the work she did, I surely can take care 
of one, for so short a time, without mother, Dinah and 
Pete to help me. If I fail under it, I can call on you 
for assistance.” 

Margaret’s smile was answered with a laugh and 
a kiss of acquiescence, and Ralph Glenwood was gone 
to give orders to Dan and Pete to carry out during his 
few days’ absence. 

Margaret arrayed herself in a traveling suit, in all 
haste for their departure, while Mrs. Glenwood was 
dressing and kissing the baby, as if laying in a stock 
to last her during the absence of the wee darling, who 
was kicking and crowing over the kisses as something 
that seemed to her very sweet indeed. 

1^0 word was sent to the Alvertons in regard to the 
intended visit, lest they might think it necessary to 
put themselves to needless expense and trouble for 
extra food that Margaret and her husband did not care 
for; so their unlooked-for coming was a joyful surprise, 
as they hoped it might be, when they arrived at the 
parsonage. 

Margaret had no time to introduce her husband be- 
fore she was clasped in Mrs. Alverton’s arms, and many 
kisses were exchanged, with eyes too full of happy 
tears to see anything else. 

Ralph Glenwood stood calm and stately, holding in 
his arms the handsomest baby in the world, thereby 
advertising his relationship to the lady who came with 
him, and who had left him to his fate at the most 
critical moment. The Minister, taking in the situa- 
tion, shook hands with him, as if soul met soul in that 
fervent handgrasp. Then he reached out his arms for 
the baby, and kissed its dewy mouth fondly and ten- 
derly. 


284 


GLENWOOD. 


The tiny blossom of humanity laughed and crowed 
over it, as if it were the funniest thing in the world. 

The Clergyman called the attention of Mrs. Alverton 
and Margaret by perpetrating a joke for once in his 
life — asking Margaret if she had just come from 
Lowell, and if the strikes were over with, and if the 
mills were running on full time, and what kind of 
goods they were manufacturing. 

The dew of joyful tears was quenched in laughter, 
and Margaret introduced her husband to these, her 
best and dearest friends, who made him as gladly 
welcome as if he were a long-lost brother who had just 
returned from a far country. 

Margaret’s wraps were laid aside, and it was Mrs. 
Alverton’s turn to kiss and shake the baby, while little 
Margaret reached up her chubby arms, pleading to 
take it herself, and kiss it all she wanted to, like other 
folks. 

Then they settled themselves to talk as only dearly 
loved and long separated friends can talk, when they 
meet again after long absence. 

Baby Florence dropped to sleep at last on Ralph 
Glenwood’s shoulder. The Minister said it was the 
handsomest epaulet that a man ever wore. 

The youngest little boy stole behind his mother’s 
chair begging her to keep the baby always. Freddy 
came in from play and was wedging in a word now 
and then, tryng to obtain the promise that he might 
draw her in his little wagon, if she woke up before 
dark. To-morrow would be Sunday, and he didn’t 
know whether it would be wicked to do it then, or 
not. 

Margaret saw little or no change in the home so dear 
to her, except that the sitting room had been treated to 


GLENWOOD. 


285 


a new rag carpet; otherwise it looked as if it were 
but yesterday that she started on her tearful trip to 
Lowell, with no ray of light in the dark outlook before 
her, never dreaming that a new keynote of life would 
be struck, making it a song of thanksgiving, instead of 
a minor strain of sorrow, causing her to covet the 
sleep of oblivion which had seemed preferable to all 
else. 

While Mrs. Alverton busied herself in preparations 
for tea, Margaret was by her side, as of old, adding 
many things that she had brought with her, and both 
chatting as if there was not a moment to lose. They 
did not notice how often the gentlemen turned their 
eyes that way, as if it were a pleasure to look at them, 
semi-occasionally, if not oftener, while discussing the 
events of the day, branching off on doctrinal or politi- 
cal subjects, as the case might be. 

The little boys were whispering together, after an- 
other play spell out of doors, saying that baby was to 
be baptized to-morrow, and they were to shine their 
shoes, nicer than ever, before they slept that night. 
Freddy hoped they would not see the holes in his 
shoes which would soon show that his toes were going 
to market. Arthur hoped they might not notice how 
old his hat was, for he would turn the frayed place 
in the brim to the back of his head. 

Margaret noticed how thin and old the parlor car- 
pet was, which put a new thought into her head. 
Another one was bought and put down before her re- 
turn to Glenwood, and was bestowed as a fond token 
of love. 

It was a substantial Brussels, with almost living 
flowers strewn over it, to gladden the Minister’s family 
for many years to come. Chairs and curtains accom- 


286 


GLENWOOD. 


panied it, as grateful reminders of a friendship as en- 
during as it was beautiful. 

It had been Margaret’s wish from the time of baby’s 
birth to have her baptized in the church where she first 
heard the Gospel preached, and from whence her 
mother’s weary form was carried to its last and only 
resting place. She was very happy to think that the 
wish was now to he gratified. 

The morning was one of cloudless splendor, with 
a Sabbath stillness in the hush of nature, as if earth 
held communion with Heaven. 

Slowly and thoughtfully the people wended their 
way to church. Ralph Glenwood and Margaret were 
among them, in company with the Minister and his 
family. When they were seated, many wondering 
eyes were turned upon them, while the Minister 
preached eloquently of a Heavenly Father’s goodness 
and mercy to the children of men. Much of the beauti- 
ful discourse was seemingly unheard and unheeded, 
the strangers being evidently the chief object of atten- 
tion and attraction. But few could believe that the 
lady was really the same Margaret Gray, who sat 
among them in years past. 

The baby was presented for baptism by Ralph Glen- 
wood, with Margaret standing by his side. Very ten- 
derly the Minister folded the little treasure in his arms, 
as he performed the baptismal rites, which was a notice- 
able point with him in all cases. 

Wondrously and surpassingly beautiful was the 
prayer that followed, pleading of God for His ac- 
ceptance of the precious offering, and to bring it at 
last to His fold in Heaven. Ralph Glenwood looked 
kingly, standing by Margaret’s side, as he received 
the smiling infant in his arms. 


GLENWOOD. 


287 


There was no display of dress. Margaret deemed it 
out of time and place. Yet the congregation declared 
that they were the finest and grandest looking couple 
that had ever entered the little stone church at the 
corner. 

Reube Brown was there, having learned that Mar- 
garet was to be present. He was not a church going 
man, but he wished to see ‘‘ with his own eyes ” 
whether Margaret had done better than if she had mar- 
ried him. With a characteristic sneer on his long face, 
he whispered to an awkward boy beside him : “ I allers 
knowed she was waitin’ fur some great swell. Common 
folks were never good enough fur her to speak to, nor 
look at. All she came back here fur was ter show that 
high-headed coon she has treed somewhar or other, in 
spite of her pretendin’ she didn’t care shucks whether 
she ever got married or not.” 

In the still Sabbath afternoon, Ralph Glenwood and 
Margaret visited the grave of her mother, and again 
afterwards, with the friends at the parsonage. ISText 
day the weeds were made to give wider space to the 
flowers, which Margaret had long ago planted in sor- 
rowing love and with many tears. They had blos- 
somed above the mother and little sisters in her ab- 
sence, as crocuses, roses, and chrysanthemums will, ful- 
filling their mission of sweetness and beauty to brighten 
the resting place of the dead. The snowy chrysanthe- 
mums were just showing the buds that were to bloom 
later in the season, in spite of frost or cold, like the 
friendship of noble hearts, which shows the brighter, 
when adversity has swept away all else. When Mar- 
garet planted them, she little thought of the signifi- 
cance they would have for her, since she accepted 
them to wear in her hair and above her tumultuously 


288 


GLENWOOD. 


beating heart, on the bright October morning when she 
became the bride and wife of Ealph Glenwood. 

No headstone had marked the resting place of her 
mother and baby sister. Through the years they had 
slept there, Margaret had wished and prayed that she 
might earn the means for that purpose. Ordering 
them, and seeing them in place, was one of the objects 
of their visit to the scenes of Margaret’s childhood. 

Her stepmother lost no time in sending Margaret 
an invitation to visit her old home, but no persuasion 
could induce her husband to accompany her. 

‘‘ I would do anything for you, my dear, except go 
on this visit you propose.” “ I could not give the 
right hand of fellowship to Jacob Gray, and could 
make no pretence of it, whatever. That grave in the 
churchyard would be an inseparable barrier between 
him and myself, even if he had always done his duty 
by you. I will hire a team and view the country 
with Mr. Alverton, and feel sure that I shall enjoy it 
much better.” 

They took the children with them, since Mrs. Al- 
verton was to accompany Margaret. They made peace 
with the ladies afterwards, for neglect of duty in house- 
keeping, by promising a similar treat for them the 
following afternoon. 

Margaret’s father was not at home. She suspected 
it was from design, but it did not grieve her as it did 
the sorrowful morning when Lowell was to be her 
destination. 

Mrs. Gray exhibited great pride and pleasure in) 
Margaret’s coming, and was profuse in apologies for, 
not having things nicer and better for her and for the 
Minister’s wife, yet the poor little house. could not_be: 
neater. 


GLENWOOD. 


289 


Their affairs had improved somewhat from force of 
circumstances, rather than through Jacob Gray’s good 
management. Starvation had come so near, that it 
compelled him to let the farm on shares. No one would 
take a mortgage, knowing that they would have to rob 
the family of the farm if they ever wanted their money. 
Besides that, the deed was in the name of Margaret’s 
mother, and there were other heirs to the little prop- 
erty. 

Letting the place on shares brought in more for the 
family, from their half of the produce, than they had 
ever obtained from the whole farm, with Jacob Gray’s 
management. Since he had no work at home, the 
neighbors persisted in coming for him, when they 
needed his services as an extra hand, and urged so 
hard, that he felt obliged to go, in spite of his inclina- 
tion to the contrary. When working with others, he 
was ashamed to fall behind them, so he earned con- 
siderable in that way, in spite of himself. 

His wife was no better manager with money, than 
he was with the farm, or they might have fared better 
than they did ; but as it was, it proved to be an uphill 
struggle in spite of a better income. 

There were now seven children to support. They 
would have suffered for want of clothing had it not 
been for Margaret’s yearly gifts which had not failed 
at the appointed time. Manda Jane had aided her 
mother in making Marg’et’s donations go as far as 
possible, and had tried to manage home affairs as they 
thought the eldest daughter would like things to go on 
^in her absence, as they still called it Marg’et’s home. 

Mrs. Gray tried in many ways to express her grat- 
itude for the aid Margaret had given her, and it was 
plainly evident that it came from the heart. It seemed 


290 


GLENWOOD. 


impossible for her not to speak of it, in one way or an- 
other, all the afternoon. 

“ I’ve allers told folks that you wan’t nobody’s fool, 
if you didn’t marry Reube Brown, nor t’other fellers, 
that hain’t got no more brains than a toad. 

“ When Reube heard that you had got married to 
a rich feller, he up an’ married Luce Smithers, she 
that was old Smither’s daughter that lives in that 
tumble-down yaller house that looks a sight worse 
than our’n does. He married her out of spite, jist 
as I told you he would, if you didn’t have him. They 
live like cats and dogs, though she thought she did 
great things when she got him. He soon showed her 
she needn’t ’spect ter make nothin’ by it. I guess 
she’s made up her mind to it, by this time, poor critter, 
for she looks like a wilted cabbage — old and dried up 
at that. Nobody but me is sorry for her, though, for 
they knowed she married him fur his property, an’ ain’t 
got hardly a rag to her back. All he has got, won’t 
never do her no good. He’ll hold onto the last cent till 
death makes him quit it, fur good and all, and she’ll go, 
long afore he does. She looks like a shadder. Gettin’ 
married is dreadful poor business anyhow, though you 
an’ the Minister’s wife has done well. Luce was power- 
fully lazy afore she got married, but she has got to 
work now, or die. She has three tow-headed childern 
— so thar is enough to do. She can’t loll round now, 
like she used to. Nobody thought she was worth a 
tailored rag. You jist oughter to see her housekeepin’. 
It’s a sight ter look at. Things look worse than Bed- 
lam.” 

Margaret was sorry for Reube Brown’s wife, even if 
she was worthless and lazy, and was considered only 
half-witted at that. 


GLENWOOD. 


291 


P’raps I’ve been somethin’ like Luce too,” said 
Mrs. Gray. “ I wan’t good fur much, an’ made jist 
such a fool of myself, gittin’ married, but I’ve had ter 
work ever since, like a horse in plowin’ time. I raised 
cucumber pickles, an’ sold enough ter buy four of these 
yaller maple chairs, an’ Mandy Jane an’ Dick cut an’ 
dried apples, an’ sold ’em to buy two more, so I hain’t 
beholdin’ ter no one fer borryin’ chairs, as I had to, 
when I had company, but it don’t happen very offen. 

“ You can’t guess the good them dress goods has 
done me in pervidin’ fur the children,” she said, 
branching off again on the subject which had been the 
cause of unbounded gratitude. “ Them sheetings an’ 
all made me feel more like Thanksgivin’ than anything 
ever did in all my born days. I’m twice the woman I 
was, if I hain’t no saint. It gi’n me new pride, that’s 
been good fur me, an’ Mandy has been so too. We 
hev slicked up more, an’ combed our hair oftener and 
better, an’ go to church like other folks. See our col- 
lars an’ cuffs,” and she pointed to her neck and pulled 
up the sleeves at her wrist. “ We took the hint of what 
you sent ’em for. Look at my hair. It’s in a French 
twist, if it is a yaller an’ streaky mess. But we ain’t 
han’some yet. Mandy Jane is yaller skinned, anyway, 
an’ shaped like a log, all the way of a bigness, but she is 
a good girl, an’ tries to be jist like you, Marg’et, so 
life ain’t so black as it would a been if you hadn’t 
helped us. I ain’t wasted nothin’ of all you gi’n us,” 
continued Mrs. Gray, smoothing out the folds of her 
dress. “ I would have skinned the younguns alive if 
they had wasted a thing that came from your gifts. I 
knowed we warn’t deservin’, an’ didn’t expect nothin’, 
but it came dreadful good, both your clothes an’ his’n, 
to cut over, and all the new things too. I remembered 


292 GLENWOOD. 

how you used to be, Marg’et, savin^ an’ takin’ care of 
things. 

Me an’ Mandy made this rag carpet, but I have a 
tussle to keep the boys off it. What was too good to go 
in the carpet I made into bed quilts. All the new 
pieces went into patch-work, every snipper on ’em.” 

Mrs. Gray told Mandy to get them for Margaret to 
see. They were really creditable as a matter of in- 
dustry and saving, and the practice it gave in learning 
to sew and joining pieces together in regular order. 
Margaret felt a double pleasure in the gifts she had be- 
stowed, seeing how well they had been cared for and 
appreciated. 

But la, me, Marg’et, I ain’t no angel yet,” said her 
stepmother, with the old jerk of the head that Margaret 
so well remembered. “ I have done better, though, 
’cause you showed you cared fur us, by sendin’ us sich 
things. It’s done yer pa good, too, if he is ter ugly ter 
own up to it. I hold my head a sight higher, I can tell 
you, ter think I’ve got sich a step-daughter. I won’t 
look at some folks that I used ter notice, and this visit 
will set me up higher’n ever. I told Mandy Jane ter 
roll the winder papers up real high, so folks could see 
you an’ the Minister’s wife, if any one passed. She 
has kept the baby out in the yard, so they could see its 
embroidered white dress. There ain’t nothin’ like it, 
and never will be, in these parts.” 

Mrs. Alverton and Margaret smiled, and turned the 
conversation into another channel, by asking further 
as to the welfare of the children, and Margaret ex- 
pressed many kindly wishes for their future prosperity. 

Mrs. Gray busied herself getting tea, with move- 
ments as deft as those of younger and sprightlier peo- 
ple. Margaret was sorry to see the needless expense 


GLENWOOD. 


293 


she had incurred, knowing that it could be ill-afforded, 
and would occasion want in some other direction. 
While they partook of the really tempting supper, Mar- 
garet thought of a way to reward her for it, with the 
present of a set of dishes, which would be something 
that her stepmother could keep and enjoy all her life, 
provided the children were made to let them alone. 

The afternoon was nearly gone, and baby, wearied 
out with so much petting, and fondling, wanted to 
snuggle in Kalph Glenwood’s bosom and go to sleep. 

Mrs. Alverton had been wishing to be at home to 
look after those who did not accompany them on their 
visit, but her solicitude proved to be unnecessary. 
Ralph Glenwood had been mindful of her, and of her 
family. They had supped at a village hotel, and were 
at home, happy and smiling, to welcome those whose 
thoughts had been often with them, as the heart of 
woman will always go where her loved ones are. 

The children were so happy, it was with difficulty 
that they could permit their elders to speak first. 

A hat and a pair of shoes found their way into the 
carriage for the little boys, as well as something for 
Margaret’s namesake, without her knowledge, until the 
dainty maiden was in the possession of a new hat and 
other things, nicer than anything she had ever worn. 

“ Why did you do all this ? ” asked the Clergyman. 

The children could do very well for the present. 
They must learn to do without many things, as we have 
had to, or I shall have to be a day laborer as well as a 
preacher.” 

I did it, because it is a part of what I work for, in 
the business I follow. I cannot be ungrateful to God ; 
therefore I bestow a portion on His children, to whom 
it belongs. There is a suit of clothes for you, my 


294 


GLENWOOD. 


friend, in that large package. I had Mrs. Alverton 
give me your dimension, in latitude and longitude, and 
also the measure of this, to crown the apex of the struc- 
ture,” and he displayed a hat such as the Minister had 
never worn since he accepted the charge he now filled. 

Kalph Glenwood saw his emotion, and added gently, 
“ This a portion of your own earnings, sent you of 
God. I am only the instrument in His hands. I re- 
turn usury to Him for what he has lent me. 

Mrs. Alverton’s eyes filled with tears. Tears were 
also rolling down Margaret’s joy-lit face for the beau- 
tiful way Ealph Glenwood tendered his offering to the 
patient and long-suffering servant of God. 

Mrs. Alverton was also thinking of the donation her 
guests brought with them ; a part of which was sent by 
Mrs. Glenwood, of things she thought might be needful 
and acceptable; and with them was an urgent invita- 
tion to visit Glenwood, with the injunction that it must 
not be slighted. The children were also included. The 
proposed visit was a new treat to be enjoyed in antici- 
pation, as something of which they had never dreamed. 
They were not told at the time, that a trip to Hew 
York and Boston were to be included, which was a 
pleasure they were not likely to enjoy, unless it was 
conferred upon them by Margaret and her husband. 

The time set for the limit of Ralph Glenwood and 
Margaret’s visit to the Alverton’s was soon over. They 
were tenderly mindful of those whom they had left at 
home, and did not feel that it would be right to delay 
their return. They knew that grandmamma’s arms 
were bereft of her darling; and that no child could fill 
them in baby’s place, not even Royal, dearly as she 
loved him. 

The last day of their visit, Mrs. Alverton and Mar- 


GLENWOOD. 


295 


garet’s stepmother each received a full set of dishes, 
as a present from Margaret. The crockery dealer did 
not often sell a set of crockery and one of china to 
the same purchaser, with only a few moments given to 
decide the matter. 

Baby was glad to get home again ; and Dinah laugh- 
ingly declared, “ Dat chile mus’ hah mor’n a common 
conferstution ter stan’ all dat huggin^ an’ kissin’. It’s 
’nough ter kill her, clean daid, if she was twice as big.” 

"When it was over with, baby cooed herself to sleep 
in Mrs. Glenwood’s arms to the great delight of the 
tender, motherly soul who had felt lost without her. 
While she slept, Mrs. Glenwood and Margaret discussed 
the plan of having the Alvertons come while the weather 
was yet pleasant and mild enough for them to enjoy 
thoroughly a long visit and a few days of sight-seeing 
in the cities before mentioned ; and ere long the visitors 
arrived, and enjoyed all that had been planned for 
them, giving them a pleasant and restful vacation. 


296 


GLENWOOD. 


CHAPTER XXV. 

MISCHIEF IN SOFT SOAP, AND IN THE BEEAD AND PAN- 
CAKES. 

It was a warm afternoon, a few days after the Alver- 
tons had paid their visit and had returned to their 
own home. It seemed so summer-like that Margaret 
arrayed herself in richly embroidered white muslin, 
which was the dress of all others that Ralph Glenwood 
liked to see her wear, with a knot of pink ribbon at her 
throat, to match the rose-tint of her cheeks. 

She had just seated herself to read a new book to 
Mrs. Glenwood, who was industriously knitting stock- 
ings for the baby feet of fairy Florence, lying asleep 
on the sofa, when Dinah was heard coming through the 
hall at no slow rate, and with a heavy step, as if carry- 
ing something. 

“ Look at dis ! ” she exclaimed as she appeared at the 
open door. “ Dat’s soap ! Look at dis chile’s ha’r ; an’ 
dat’s soap, too ! Dar nebber was sich a chile, nehber ! ” 

She stood holding at arm’s length a squirming, squab- 
bling lump of humanity, smeared from head to foot 
with soft soap, hair and all, as Dinah had said. Be- 
side them stood the dog, with drooping head, and sor- 
rowful eyes uplifted with an appealing look, as if it 
needed no words to tell the measure of his wrongs, as 
he too was plastered with soap. 


GLENWOOD. 


297 


Eoyal had tried to rub the soap from his own face 
with his dirty hands, which made the dark blue eyes 
look comical enough, amid the grime and dirt, while 
they seemed to be the only clean thing about him. 

Dinah’s face was a study with its ludicrous expres- 
sion, half anger, and half amusement — the former 
sensation a little predominant, as she said : ‘‘ Dis chile 
was out in the wash-house, an’ got de kibber offen my 
soft soap cag, an’ got dat ole wash-dipper, an’ kibbered 
my nice flo’, wid soap pancakes, an’ strung ’em roun’ 
in ribbons an’ puddles. Dat wasn’t enough; so he 
kibbered de bottom oh my wash-b’iler, what I had 
turned tudder side up, washed out, nice an’ clean. He 
kibbered the stobe-harf wid pancakes too, an’ tried to 
turn ’em wid de coal shubble ; an’ ob course, he couldn’t 
do it; an’ den he plastered de dog, an’ rubbed it in. 
Dat wasn’t enough yet, fur w’en I foun’ him, he had 
de cat in his lap on her back, wid soap in de dipper, 
an’ was tryin’ to feed it ter her, wid dat ole iron spoon. 
It’s a wonder she didn’t scratch his eyes out, but he has 
walked her roun’ by de tail, till she hain’t got no spirit 
lef’. She was sneezing an’ shakin’ her head; an’ dat 
is how de soap came all ober him. Dar’s de poor cat 
now, blowin’ her nose in great ’diction, an’ don’t know 
what ter do wid herself.” 

Dinah broke down in a laugh, in which Mrs. Glen- 
wood and Margaret joined, while the little soap-dealer 
stood on the oilcloth in the hall, with one chubby hand 
resting on the back of the much-afflicted dog, and look- 
ing like a culprit waiting to receive his sentence. 

Margaret commenced preparations for changing her 
dress, knowing that different apparel would be neces- 
sary for the case in hand. Dinah followed suit, and 
said she would attend to Eoyal in the bathtub, clothes 


298 


GLENWOOD. 


and all; so Margaret, in a different dress, attended to 
washing the cat, and Pete was called to render similar 
service for the dog, which was no easy task, with a 
quart or two of soft soap rubbed into his curly wool. 

With pussy’s hatred of water for bathing purposes, 
she took it as a great hardship, till Margaret’s gentle 
hand dried her off, and tucked her in a basket of shav- 
ings, clean and warm, and placed her by the hot stove, 
where Dinah was baking bread. 

Master Eoyal, by Margaret’s orders, came out of the 
bath, and was rubbed dry, and then dressed in his night 
clothes, and put into his crib for a nap, as his punish- 
ment for mischief. 

He did not take it kindly, but Margaret was firm, 
and he was soon asleep, looking as innocent as ever, 
when she went to kiss him after she had changed her 
dress again, and was ready to resume her reading. 

It was no small task to clean up the soap pancakes 
after the live-stock were cared for. Dinah declared 
that the whole affair was Pete’s fault. He had told 
her that he was going to take Royal with him into the 
garden, while he pullled the beans, and gathered the 
green tomatoes for pickling. She had felt at ease con- 
cerning the young budget of mischief, knowing that he 
was always delighted to be with Pete, and tried to do 
whatever that sable gentleman was doing. He usually 
worked with all his might, as long as Pete did. 

Dinah had just finished the house-work and had 
donned her best dress of blue worsted, with huge bou- 
quets of flowers scattered over it, and a bandana tur- 
ban, gayer yet, and had seated herself to sew, while the 
bread was baking. Happening to think that it was 
some time since she had seen Royal, she dropped her 
work, and went around and through the house on a voy- 


GLENWOOD. 299 

age of discovery, and found the young investigator 
experimenting in soap. 

“ ’Pears dat dar is sumpin’ always wrong, ebery 
time I puts on dis dress,” said Dinah, as Margaret en- 
tered the room to look after the welfare of poor pussy. 

“ I guess I is too proud oh it,” and she spread out the 
skirt, and smoothed the folds with much satisfaction, 
as she proceeded to tie on a neat checked apron, fresh 
and clean, just unfolded from the ironing table. 

“ It’s more dan once I has had ter take off dis dress, 
for some mischief oh dat chile’s doin’ s, hress his heart,” 
and she laughed as if it had been no great trouble after 
all. 

“ It’s too bad to have the little mischief plague you 
so,” said Margaret pityingly. “ I must watch him more 
myself, and save you from so much annoyance.” 

“ See here. Missy Margaret ! I hain’t complainin’ 
’bout dat chile, nohow, nor ’bout his mischief; it’s my 
place to do sich tings. I drudder do dem, fifty times 
over, dan ter see him sick an’ puny, an’ make my heart 
ache fur him. I couldn’t fin’ no fun in dat, as I duz 
now, if I is a little riled, just at fust, but I didn’t feel 
sorry for dat Pete, when I made him clean up dem 
soap pancakes. He had to sweat ober it, befo’ he got 
trou’. It took a lot oh water, an’ a site ob scrubbin’, 
ter git de stains out; but I looked affer it, an’ seen it 
done right. 

“ Takin’ care of chillens ain’t de wust trouble in de 
worl’. Missy Margaret. Dis house knows dat. It foun’ 
it out years ago, when one little angel foun’ her wings 
and flew away to heaben. 

“Dis chile hain’t de kin’ dat flies away and bese 
angels. Huffin’ ebber beat him for mischief — nebber 
in dis worl’. 


300 


GLENWOOD. 


While you wuz gone I had my bread on de chairs 
in de sun ter make it rise, an’ while I wuz out de doh 
cleanin’ sass fur dinner, dat chile picked two loaves all 
ter bits, an’ strung ’em aroun’ all over de chairs and 
eberyting. Missy Glenwood only kiss him, an’ call him 
sweet names, but I didn’t feel like it, jis’ den. I was 
hoppin’ mad ober dat bread, an’ I had ter laugh too, 
’cause it went furder dan it would if it had been baked. 
It was mose light, an’ dat made it soft, so it would 
string out easy.” 

Margaret laughed with Dinah, though she felt sorry 
for the work and trouble the young busybody had 
caused the good soul on whom so much of their home 
comfort depended. 

“ You know dem shoes his pa bought for him, jis’ 
afo’ you went away, on dat visit. See how dey looks 
now. He had ’em swimmin’ in a pail ob water de berry 
nex’ day, but dat was Pete’s fault too, ’cause he lef’ it 
standin’ on de flo’, like a gump. He knowed better, 
but he is like a skunk, ye can’t teach him nulfin’, no- 
how.” Dinah heaved a sigh, as if trouble would never 
end, but her bright eyes and good-natured face looked 
as if she was not wholly heartbroken, nor very discon- 
solate after all. 

She went to the basket to stir up the cat and see if 
she was coming out all right after her tribulations. 
She laughed at pussy’s forlorn appearance, and then 
beat up the shavings for the poor creature and tucked 
her up for another nap. 

If you isn’t tired bearin’ ob dat chile’s pranks, I 
kin tell you ob lots mo’,” she said as she looked into 
the oven to see about the welfare of the bread. I 
didn’t let you know ’bout his mischief, at de time ob it, 
fur fear you would try an’ keep him from it, when 


GLENWOOD. 


301 


^tain’t no ’count, nohow. But laws ! you might as well 
try ter keep de win’ from Wowin’. 

“ I was runnin’ short ob bread afore bakin’ day, and 
concluded to make pancakes ter make it hoF out. Affer 
I mixed ’em, I sat ’em on de stobe-harf ter rise, an’ 
when I lef de room a second, he just went and chucked 
dat rag-doll ob his’n in dem pancakes an’ put on de 
kibber again. When my griddle was smokin’ hot, an’ 
I was goin’ ter put on de cakes, den I seed all dat 
mischief, an’ de clock jist on de stroke ob dinner; so I 
had ter fly ’roun’, an’ mix muffins, an’ dat doll juice 
had to be giv ter de pigs, doll an’ all.” 

“ I must surely keep him out of the kitchen,” said 
Margaret. “ He is too much trouble, and makes you a 
great deal of needless work. Mischief grows with his 
growth, now that he is older, and can get around into it 
better.” 

“ If he stays away, den I looses half ob de pleasure ob 
libbin’. I kin watch him myse’f, now I knows de line 
his mischief runs in, fur he is allers ’vestigatin’ ebery- 
ting his eyes light on.” 

It may be that he wll yet become a great inventor 
or discoverer,” said Margaret, laughing, as she lifted 
the youngster into her lap. “ It seems that he can 
never keep still, nor leave anything alone.” 

“ He kin skubber mo’ mischief now, dan any chile 
dat was ebber born into dis worl’, an’ dat’s a sign dat 
he will make a smart man. 

One day when I was in de milk-house, I set Pete 
ter takin’ up de ashes. He took off de stobe harf, afore 
he got de ash pail, an’ while he was gone ter empty it, 
dat chile shubbed his legs under de stobe, an’ scooped 
out de ashes inter his lap wid his ban’s, and piled ’em on 


302 


GLENWOOD. 


his head; an’ dat good-fur-nuffin’ Pete jes’ rolled 
on de flo’ an’ laughed liked he’d kill hisse’f. 

“ Den dar was work fur me, jest when I wanted de 
fire started up for dinner. I had to kibber dat chile’s 
eyes, an’ hoi’ him out in de win’, on his back, while 
Pete brushed de ashes out ob his ha’r wid de close 
broom. Den sich a time as I had washin’ it out, affer 
dat. I was afeared de lye ob de ashes would eat de ha’r 
all out by de roots ; and dat great lazy blubber laughed 
so I could jes’ took de head ofien him, but he didn’t 
laugh dis time, when he had ter clean up dem soap- 
pancakes, all ’lone by hisse’f. 

Missy Glenwood was lyin’ down dat time, or I 
’spec’s she’d kissed an’ blessed Masser Royal. I didn’t 
feel like it, nohow ; but I kin laugh ober it now. ’Tain’t 
like as if his mischief was ob de kin’ dat hurt hisse’f, 
so dar hain’t no cause ob complaint. 

You see. Missy Margaret, if I watches de bread, 
de pancakes, de ashes an’ de soap, dar hain’t no great 
mischief, in de house or out ob it, dat I sees in de way 
ob his ban’s, dat he can git into. I is made ob poor 
stuff if I can’t do dat little. A sight ob women has 
piles ob jis’ sich little chillens, and has all der own 
work ter do, ’sides dat; so I guess I can see ter dis 
one, without yer plaguin’ yerse’f ter do it. Dat would 
spile lots ob fun fur me.” 

“ R'ever mind, you can see to him yet, if you care to 
be bothered with him. Only let me know when he 
troubles you.” 

Margaret saw that the good soul was uneasy for 
fear “ dat chile ” would be kept from her, so she was 
content to let things remain as they were, if Dinah was 
satisfied. 

Pete came in with a smile that went from ear to ear, 


GLENWOOD. 


303 


as he said, I ’spec’s dat dog is gwine ter die. He is 
shibberin’ like he’d fall ter pieces. Soap wasn’t good 
fer his conferstuchion. I didn’t ’spec’s it was good fer 
mine, when Aunt Dinah made me clean up dem soap- 
pancakes, and when she makes me wash wid col’ water, 
in col’ mawnings. I ’spec’s Sniff feels jes’ so too. We 
is boff alike, only Sniff is de han’somest.” 

Pete looked at Dinah, as she started for the corner 
where she always hung the broom, and Margaret smiled 
as she replied: 

“ Call the dog out with you for a brisk race around 
the lawn, till he is warm and feels all right again.” 

Pete was off in his awkward way, his heels far be- 
hind him, and Sniff by his side, seeing nothing to criti- 
cise in his friend’s appearance. Soon he seemed to 
have forgotten soap and all other unpleasant things, 
such as Dinah’s scolding him for tracking on the piazza, 
and for wanting to lie near the stove when there was no 
need of it. His happy harking and lolling tongue 
showed that his circulation had improved, and he was 
glad to rest after his exertions. 

Margaret was standing on the veranda, smiling at 
the scene, when Ealph Glenwood came to invite her to 
drive with him before tea. He noticed what a picture 
she made amid the beautiful surroundings, and won- 
dered if his present joy was a recompense for past sor- 
rows — mourning for their dead; but such sorrows are 
seldom wholly past. The loss remains and will haunt 
the heart even when smiles are on the lips. Song and 
laughter are never the same after our loved ones have 
passed through ‘‘the valley,” and, with white faces, 
heed not our cries of anguish as they are borne from our 
sight, till we shall see what lies beyond the storm-washed 
shores of time. 


304 


GLENWOOD. 


I have two hours to spare, my darling,” said the 
stately husband. “ I have at the same time a little 
business to transact about five miles from home. I 
should be pleased with your company for a drive, if 
you would honor me with it.” 

“ Mother needs to go more than I do. I fear she has 
devoted herself too closely at home, in our absence,” 
replied Margaret, with tender solicitude for the mother 
whose wedded joys were in the past. 

“ Here, Pete ! tell Dan to harness Princess and 
Traveller to the double carriage. Mother will enjoy it 
better to have us all with her, since we all belong to 
her. Baby must of course go, and master Royal may 
go too, if you think best after his misdeeds.” 

Margaret assented, and the blue eyes, fresh from 
sleep, were soon dancing with delight, as great as that 
of dealing out soap. All his recent troubles were for- 
gotten as a dream of infancy, and he was not the only 
one made happier for the drive of that pleasant after- 
noon. Had the day been made to order it could not 
have been fairer or lovelier for the occasion. 

Mrs. Glenwood rejoiced that no shadow was ever 
allowed to come between Margaret and her husband. 
Misunderstandings were not left to harbor hard feel- 
ings, nor foster heartache, and no molehills were per- 
mitted to grow into mountains. 

When baby Florence was a year old, Margaret took 
a few summer trips with her husband, leaving the 
children with Mrs. Glenwood and Dinah. Grand- 
mamma declared herself happier at home with them, 
knowing that they would be safe, and well-cared for. 
She lived over again the bright years of her married 
life, though there had been some shadows and heart- 
aches for her to endure that were never thought of, nor 


GLENWOOD. 


305 


intended. They came from trifles light as air, yet 
they could depress a loving and sensitive heart, where 
pride kept guard at the portal and doubled the pain. 
She knew in later years, if she did not then, that if her 
distinguished husband caused her to suffer from 
wounded feelings, it was from lack of thought amid 
his many cares, instead of want of love. She learned 
to know that the great and good heart throbbed true 
and tenderly for her till the last pulsation of life. 


306 


GLENWOOD. 


CHAPTER XXVI. 

BABY ROSCOE. 

Little Florence Glenwood was five years old, and 
was the most witching fairy that ever gladdened heart 
or home. All pronounced her a perfect copy of the 
little one who had played and laughed, and made 
music in that beautiful home years before. Mrs. Glen- 
wood could hardly realize that it was not the same child 
sent back to gladden her, after long years of mourning 
for a loved and only daughter. 

This snow-white blossom was considered solely and 
entirely grandma’s darling, though she was none the 
less precious and dear to all the others. Ralph Glen- 
wood held a second idol, enshrined in the holiest depths 
of his affections, and that was the wee, dark-eyed 
daughter. He loved Royal as other fathers love a 
bright and promising son, but Florence was entwined 
with his heart-strings. 

Pete, now grown to manhood, thought even more of 
her than of the seven-year old boy whom he had played 
with so much, and who was still his playfellow and 
companion. To the credit of Pete, be it said, that he 
taught him no wrong. He was a good-natured, inof- 
fensive fellow, meaning no ill, but so obtuse and awk- 
ward, his faculties developing so slowly that he was 
often a great trial to Aunt Dinah, and an almost un- 


GLENWOOD. 


307 


ceasing vexation of spirit. She was secretly proud of 
him, to see how much he had improved in the past few 
years, though she was careful not to let him know it, 
as she considered that there was room for much further 
improvement. He was still ready to work at odd jobs 
in the house or out, it mattered little where, or what it 
was, or who asked it. He had honest pride, energy and 
ambition which helped the growth of other good quali- 
ties. He had become ashamed of laziness. He would 
not shirk a task or duty, no matter how unpleasant it 
might be, which at times made him a hero in Dinah’s 
eyes. 

When Ealph Glenwood and Margaret were married, 
Mrs. Glenwood thought that the whole love of her 
heart and soul centered in them, aside from the affec- 
tion which was given to those who had gone before. 
When children came, she found that the supply had 
increased, or it was limitless. She was sure that the 
branching rills of love did not lessen the supply at the 
fountain head. 

There was no narrowness of heart or mind in this 
noble and lovely woman. Her Christianity and cul- 
ture had depth and breadth, which made her all in all 
to Margaret, with her loving tenderness, ripened wis- 
dom and experience. 

A new baby came in time for Thanksgiving, and like 
the others, found a joyful welcome. Eoyal and Flor- 
ence were in raptures over it, and had many a contest 
as to who had the best right to take care of it ; but baby 
had no lack of care or love, nor its mother either, and 
both did finely. 

Margaret said it was Ealph’s turn to name the baby, 
but he pretended to consider it a great responsibility, 
as there is often much in a name; so at last he called 


308 GLENWOOD. 

him Koscoe, and hoped that he might wear the name 
with honor. 

When summer came, Margaret consented to go out 
to lectures and concerts occasionally, in connection 
with the usual drives; but nothing could induce her to 
leave home over night till after baby was a year old. 
She did not go then, except a few times in early spring. 
In the autumn, near the holidays, a new baby came, 
claiming care and love. At her baptism, she received 
the name of Lillian. 

When health returned, and Margaret looked on her 
four healthy, happy children, with their intelligence 
and beauty, she might well be pardoned for the pride 
she felt. Ralph Glenwood more than shared the feel- 
ing, and considered himself the happiest husband and 
father in the world. 

Aunt Dinah was sure that she felt younger than ever, 
and declared she would not know what to do with her 
time, “ if it wasn’t for de chillens.” She was sure that 
she could take care of them better than any one else. 
The merry rogues thought so too, and kept her heart 
young, if the years did go on in such rapid haste. 
Time dealt very tenderly with Mrs. Glenwood also, 
in the serene happiness of loving and being loved. She 
was conscious of no change, for she felt no older. 

Ralph Glenwood was a thorough man of business, 
though he might have been a man of leisure, had he so 
chosen ; his means being ample for it. Glenwood Stock 
Farm was widely known for its imported and thorough- 
bred stock. As wealth increased, they did not forget 
to scatter the surplus where they saw or knew of want 
or need, or to give assistance to aid the struggling and 
the sorrowing to get along better, with more ease than 
friction and less wear and tear of life. 


GLENWOOD. 


309 


Many hearts still called down blessings on the ele- 
gant home and its inmates, but, with all the plenty at 
Glenwood, many a poor man and woman would have 
grumbled at food so invariably plain as that on which 
the Glenwood children subsisted. There were no dain- 
ties to cloy appetite, and cause a distaste for plain, 
wholesome food. 

Tea and coffee were never admitted into the bill of 
fare, no more than it was in former times, when tender 
nerves were not injured with such beverages, to cause 
an unnatural craving for stronger stimulants in after 
years, and thus lay the foundation for drunkenness and 
ruin, or ill-health and death. Sickness was almost un- 
known among them. They were brought up to the 
strict letter of the motto : “ A sound mind is a sound 
body.” They enjoyed life to the utmost, like birds and 
lambs, and other happy creatures in the summer glad- 
ness of nature. The grand old trees that sheltered 
Glenwood, threw wider, and still wider their protect- 
ing arms over them, and birds sang above, while loving 
hearts cherished glorious hopes and dreams of their 
future. 

The elegant grounds of Glenwood were as profusely 
embellished with blooming chrysanthemums in October 
and November, as they were with roses in June. 

The friends in the little parsonage were never 
neglected nor forgotten. The loving affection so warm 
and tender in the beginning, was not allowed to grow 
cold as time passed on. Tickets were sent them for 
visiting Glenwood, at least once a year, and sometimes 
oftener. Ralph Glenwood and Margaret in their sum- 
mer journeying made no excuses for neglecting to visit 
the friends at the parsonage. 

The pleasant words of wishing them well, were fol- 


310 


GLENWOOD. 


lowed with material aid, which was not set down in 
the book of memory to be counted over and told of, nor 
to see when they had bestowed enough. Their dona- 
tions were so delicately presented, that they could not 
possibly offend any one possessing human reason or 
common sense, any more than birthday gifts or holi- 
day presents offend those we love, nor any one else on 
whom they are bestowed. 

Life with the Clergyman and his family passed much 
more comfortably and serenely for possessing such rare 
friends to brighten the passing years in the out-of-the- 
way place where their lot had been cast. 

Margaret always visited her stepmother whenever 
she visited the Alvertons, knowing that her coming was 
looked forward to with pride and pleasure. 

Amanda Lane had married and moved west, and 
Dick had gone to seek his fortune in the Black Hills. 
There were seven children left, making Margaret’s 
yearly gifts as much needed as in the past. 


.GLENWOOD. 


311 


CHAPTER XXVII. 

PETE ANNOUNCES HIS ENGAGEMENT AND DANCES WITH 
DINAH. 

It was a noisy and breezy evening in March. The 
wind was boisterously trying to wake the earth from its 
long winter’s sleep, after the day had been spent sob- 
bing and weeping over it. Xature seemed to be in a 
furious mood at seeing no signs of returning outdoor 
life, joy or gladness, after so many long months of wait- 
ing. 

The pines at the corner of the house sighed and shiv- 
ered, and bowed their tall heads, seemingly in anguish, 
and shook them sorrowfully, as if grieving with fear 
that soft zephyrs would never play again among their 
fragrant branches. 

Pete had been making Aunt Dinah fidgety with his 
uneasy actions, so the good soul was lecturing him for 
it, and for not taking a book, ‘^an’ ’havin’ hisse’f, read- 
ing, as he ought to, instead of acting as if he had the 
magrams.” 

Pete was not to be quieted in that way. He had 
something on his mind heavier than a whole library of 
books. At last he left the room, and went through the 
hall, and rapped timidly at the door of the pleasant 


312 


GLENWOOD. 


parlor where the Glenwoods were seated after the chil- 
dren’s mirth was hushed in slumber. They had been 
lovingly tucked into their snowy beds, and with prayer 
and kisses had been committed to the care of Him who 
sleepeth not. 

Mrs. Glenwood was at her favorite pastime, knitting 
stockings for fairy feet, and Ralph Glenwood was read- 
ing. Margaret was busily sewing on dainty garments, 
where every stitch was set with love, and loving 
thoughts of the rosy sleepers in the room above. 

At the same time, with divided thoughts like Mrs. 
Glenwood, she was listening to incidents of travel, 
charmed with the voice dearest to her in all the world. 
Pete’s rap was not heard amid the muffled din of shak- 
ing casements and rattling blinds. Gaining courage, 
he rapped louder, and was heard at last and was bid- 
den to enter. After closing the door, he stood with his 
back against it, clumsily tumbling his hands, over and 
over, in the most awkward manner, and diving them 
deep into his pockets, and out again, and then up to his 
head, as if to see if that important member were pres- 
ent. He evidently wished to hide his face somewhere, 
and knowing that there was no way of doing it, he 
dropped his chin on his breast, and let it pass at that, 
as if it were the best he could do, after so much man- 
euvering and uneasiness of mind over the announce- 
ment he intended to make. 

“ Did you wish to speak to me ? ” asked the master 
of the house, hoping to relieve Pete’s embarrassment. 

“ Yes, sah ! an’ I wanted to speak to de ladies, too,” 
and down went the odd-shaped head again, resting on 
his breast as before. 

“ Is anything wrong ? ” asked Margaret, with a Igok 
and tone of sympathy. 


GLENWOOD. 


313 


NuflSn’ wrong, mum ; but I is twen’y-f^ur year old, 
and concluded to git married in four weeks frum now,” 
was the hurried reply. 

‘‘ Is that so ? ” asked Kalph Glenwood, with un- 
feigned surprise. “ I had no idea of it. You have as 
good a right to take that step as any one else, I suppose, 
though it seems sudden to us, not having heard of it 
before.” 

Mrs. Glenwood and Margaret spoke their astonish- 
ment also. It did not seem that Pete could be so old. 
They could not help smiling at the expression of his 
face, when he made known the important event which 
was soon to transpire. 

You do not intend to leave us on that account, do 
you ? Or what do you propose to do ? ” asked the gen- 
tleman of the house, trying to suppress a smile at Pete’s 
ludicrous appearance and shamefaced bashfulness. 

“ We are glad you told us,” said Mrs. Glenwood, 

for that is right.” 

“ Most certainly,” added Margaret, with deep pity 
for Pete, as she saw his forehead shine with perspi- 
ration which had oozed out of his embarrassment, while 
his head was dropped again on his breast.” 

I don’t want ter leab Glenwood if you don’t says 
I must,” was Pete’s reply, with much concern of mind, 
lest the step he was about to take might prove disastrous 
to his interests there. 

“ I’se been raised here, an’ dar ain’t no udder place 
dat is home ter me. I fought I belonged here, de same 
as de dog, an’ horses, an’ I didn’t fink no mo’ about 
goin’ away dan dey duz. If somebody stoled me, an’ 
carried me off, Glenwood is de place dat I would run 
back to, de same as dey would. Dey couldn’t be coaxed 
away, nor I nudder. I done ’spec’s I need be no more 


314 


GLENWOOD. 


fool dan brutes is. If dey likes der home, I likes it 
too. If I hain’t wanted here I doan know what is ter 
become ob me. I want ter lib here, an’ die here ; ’cause 
I lubs de folks, an’ it is home, an’ dat means a good 
deal ter a poor pusson like I is.” 

“ Give yourself no uneasiness,” said Ralph Glen- 
wood, with heartfelt pity. 

I has tried ter do right,” continued Pete, “ an’ has 
tried to be faifful, ’cause dat is right. Youse took me 
when I was a good-fur-nuffin’ pickaninny dat nobody 
else would hab. Dinah says if a boy don’t bleev’ it’s 
wuff somethin’ ter keep him, let him try ter hire his 
board, with good ’havior frow’d in, an’ den see what 
udder folks fink.” 

“ We know it, Pete. You have tried to be true and 
faithful. And we would not feel willing to spare you. 
If a man is not that, he is not anything. Even the 
commonest dog has that much to recommend him, and 
puts many a human being to the blush, or ought to, 
if he or she is false or untrustworthy. Life was made 
for a better purpose.” 

“ Dat is so ; an’ dat is what you all has taught me, 
an’ Aunt Dinah too, an’ I is proud ob it, an’ alters 
shall be. I is afeared ter do wrong, ’cause I is afeared 
ob God.” 

“ You could give yourself no better recommendation 
than that. As you grew older, we saw you show a 
praiseworthy desire to be really useful,” said Ralph 
Glenwood. “We noticed that it was not all on the 
surface, but had depth to it. You have not done your 
work merely for show, nor put your efforts all on the 
outside, leaving things that were out of sight, undone, 
or half doing them. Had that been the case, you 
would have lost Glenwood long ago. We saw that you 


GLENWOOD. 


315 


had become an earnest helper. The ladies feel that 
they could not do without you. They have trusted you, 
and your services have come in handy in many ways; 
but I suppose you want an increase of wages. Is that 
it?” 

“ ITot ’zactly, sir. You pays me ^nough, an’ all I is 
wuff,” and his face brightened into smiles again at the 
well-deserved compliment paid him by the master of 
the house. “ I t’ank you berry much, sah, but I is 
satisfied. I drudder not hab fancy wages, ’cause some 
one would want ter sneak in, an’ rout me out.” 

“ That might be so, but I did not think of it in that 
light.” 

“ Yes dey might tell lies ag’in me, too, an’ offer ter 
work cheaper, fust off, an’ den talk up bigger wages, 
soon as I was out ob de way. Tamer likes me, ’cause I 
is stiddy, an’ has a stiddy place. She bleev’s I is a 
better pusson dan if I was raised on de street, an’ didn’t 
know nuflSn’ ’bout work an’ business. Mebby she 
wouldn’t hab me if I lose my place. I would be dread- 
ful fear’d ob dat.” 

I honor her sense and judgment,” said Mrs. Glen- 
wood. 

And so do I,” added Margaret. I think we shall 
like her. Her sentiments speak well in her favor for 
setting a higher value on you, because you are steady 
and industrious.” 

“ She hab lots ob sense, an’ good sense too,” said 
Pete, stretching up in greater pride. 

“ You need have no fears of loosing your place,” was 
the assuring reply. The position is yours, as long as 
you remain the same trusty helper that you have been 
of late years. We shall not change, if you do not. We 
will assure you that you can stay as long as you con- 


316 


GLENWOOD. 


tinue the same upright, manly course that you have 
taken thus far, and you may tell Tamer so.’’ 

“ T’ank you berry much, indeed, sah,” and Pete 
bowed almost to his knees in his gratitude and rever- 
ence. 

Still he stood as if hesitating over something that he 
wanted to say. 

The master of Glenwood went to the desk in the 
library and put the agreement into writing, thinking 
that it might be more satisfactory to Tamer, at least, 
as something tangible to look at and rely on. 

Pete was greatly delighted, and expressed many 
thanks, hut still he lingered. It was evident there was 
something on his mind that weighed as an uneasy bur- 
den, though he hesitated to make it known. 

“ Well,” said Margaret, “ I suppose you want to 
know what to do with a wife when you get her, and have 
her to provide for ?” 

“ Dat’s jist it!” replied Pete, laughing all over 
with delight, to think that some one had guessed his 
trouble. “ I wanted ter say dat, dis good while.” 

Then that is what troubles you, is it ? ” said Ralph 
Glenwood, with a laugh at the brighter looks that one 
sentence had brought about. 

‘‘ Dat’s jist what stuck in my froat. I t’ought dat 
dat maybe ’cause Aunt Dinah is getting putty old. 
Tamer could come and do de he’f ob de work. She 
wouldn’t ask nuffin’ much, so she could lib wid me, 
an’ not hab ter go away from Glenwood.” 

“ If that will suit Dinah, we have no objections to 
offer,” said Mrs. Glenwood, a little anxiously. We 
have long wished her to have a helper, but we have had 
secret doubts about the propriety of asking her concern- 
ing it.” 


GLENWOOD. 


317 


“I fear that Dinah will not be an easy subject to 
handle on that question,” said her son, with a troubled 
countenance. 

We cannot tell, till we speak to her about it,” was 
Mrs. Glenwood’s response ; “ we should go at once and 
ask her, and have it over with. Don’t you think so, 
my daughter ? ” 

“ I do,” was the reply. “ Dinah is quite sensitive 
in regard to having any helper, as you say. But the 
only way to come at it, is to ask her about it as ten- 
derly as possible.” 

“ That is so, my dear,” said her husband. 

Pete stood in silence, although he was thoughtfully 
scratching his head, as if trying to dig out some ideas 
on the subject, one way or another. So many matri- 
monial thoughts and cares had greatly perplexed him, 
and he saw no clear way out of the dilemma. He 
stood in awe of Dinah, and much preferred to keep 
out of sight on this occasion, so he held back as far as 
possible, in the wake of the others, on their way to the 
neat and homelike kitchen, where Dinah had presided 
so long and faithfully. 

The good-natured, kindly face was lifted question- 
ingly from the open Bible before her, which she had 
been reading, as was her custom before retiring for the 
night. 

“ What do you think of this caper of Pete’s ? ” asked 
the master of Glenwood. “ He says he is going to get 
married.” 

“ When does he ’spect ter enter dat state of blessed- 
ness ? ” asked Dinah, ironically. 

She did not feel exactly easy, seeing such a delega- 
tion enter her precincts, especially as it was flanked 
by Pete. 


318 


GLENWOOD. 


“ It is to be in four weeks, I believe.” 

Den dat is de meanin’ ob all his fine airs, dis good 
while, I ’spec’s ; struttin’ roun’ like a rooster what has 
learned to crow putty good, an’ aint ob no ’count any- 
ways whateber.” 

There was a laugh at Pete’s expense, in which he 
joined with much evident delight. Then there was a 
pause. Ho one wished to disturb the serenity of that 
placid face. 

At last Mrs. Glenwood drew near the table with her 
hand reverently touching the pages of the sacred book. 
She was mindful of the vast number of the children of 
men, who have drawn inspiration from it in the trials 
of life, and in the hour of death, and to whom it has 
been the stepping-stone to lift the heart to God, through 
generations of care and sorrow, as it would continue 
to be till time should be no longer. 

Mrs. Glenwood was thinking of this, as with all 
gentleness, and in her tenderest tones, she opened the 
subject which she feared might not be a pleasant one 
to the kindly soul beside her. 

“ Pete thought you might like to have Tamer help 
' V you in the heaviest work. He has been speaking to us 
about it.” 

There was an inward struggle which showed it- 
self in the honest face that had always beamed with so 
much kindliness upon them. Tears welled up to the 
eyes so bright and peaceful but a moment before in 
her satisfied content with all the world. 

“ Don’t feel badly. Aunt Dinah,” said one voice and 
then another, in kindly tones, full of compassion and 
regret for having disturbed her peace of mind and 
heart. 

“You are not to give up your position nor your 


GLENWOOD. 


319 


home to any one, unless it is your own will,” said Mrs. 
Glenwood ; “ and then, if that were to occur, we should 
feel intensely grieved and sorry.” 

“ We could hardly live without you,” said her son. 
“ It is a thing not to be thought of at all ? You are our 
main reliance. Tamer or no Tamer.” 

“ Not by any means can we spare you,” said Mar- 
garet, in sorrowful tones. “How could we live with- 
out you, Dinah ? ” 

“ Pete never thought of Tamer’s having your place 
at any time,” said Mrs. Glenwood, assuringly. “ Yet 
our conscience has often accused us of not being just 
to you, by permitting you to do all the work without a 
steady helper. We have talked it over many times by 
ourselves, and have thought we ought to speak to you 
about it. It has seemed to us, like neglect of duty on 
our part.” 

“ Massy knows ! I hain’t got so poorly dat I has ter 
have some one ter do my little bit ob work. Dar hain’t 
no hard work ter do. If dar is, I hain’t seen it. I 
didn’t ’specks I was sich a poor, wuffless rag, dat I 
needs so much help. I hain’t none ob de die away sort, 
dat’s so ’feared of hurtin’ darselbs. I has help ’nough. 
You ladies helps me a big sight more dan I want yer 
ter. Even de chillens helps me, bress dar little hearts ! 
Now somebody else wants ter care fur ’em, dat don’t 
lub ’em as I duz. 

“ I drudder take burdens on my back, dan on my 
heart, any time; an’ dat’s whar de hef’ would be, if I 
had ter hab somebody else mussin’ roun’, an’ callin’ it 
work, an’ pesterin’ my life out wid dar lazy ways. 
’Tain’t no fun habbin’ ter preach myse’f ter de’f, tryin’ 
ter git sumpin’ out ob ’em. Lookin’ affer ’em, is wuss 
dan all de work, ten times ober. I was jist given t’anks 


320 


GLENWOOD. 


fur all de blessin’s I has, an’ now it’s wanted fur some- 
body else, dat can do more talk an’ less work, like dat 
good-fur-nuffin’ Pete, an’ not half doin’ it, an’ mebby 
can growl ’bout it, at dat, jist fur a skuse fur doin’ 
nuffin, and mebby plague de ladies till dey’s mos’ crazy, 
sayin’ dey is goin’ ter leab, an’ goin’ somewhere else, 
like so many of de low-down trash now’days, ’cause dey 
has no feelin’, an’ ain’t nuffin’, nohow. 

[Now I is ter be set aside like an ole stobe, or a wor’- 
out broom, an’ be trowed away. Dat’s all de t’anks I 
git fur helpin’ ter raise dat wuffiess gump, an’ fur all 
de trouble I has had wid him; an’ now he wants ter 
bring somebody else here, an’ trow me out of my 
home ; ” and here she broke down with sobs that shook 
her like a tempest. 

“ ^No, no. Aunt Dinah ! It shall not be,” said first 
one voice and then another. Tamer shall not come 
into the house at all, if you do not want her to help you. 
We do not wish it, if you do not. That is why we laid 
the case before you,” said Ralph Glenwood, while Mar- 
garet’s eyes overfiowed with sympathy for the faithful 
soul who held in her heart a mother’s love for them all. 

“ I’se not a patriarch, nur a Murfuseral, an’ I hain’t 
so poorly but I kin do my little bit ob work, as well as 
dat Pete I was fool ’nough to be boddered wid. I had 
all de lickin’ an’ scoldin’ ter do myse’f, or he would 
nebber been nuffin’, an’ would been in the poorhouse, 
where all sich low trash belongs. He ain’t nuffin’ yet, 
wid all my care, or he wouldn’t want ter turn me out 
ob doors.” 

“Aunt Dinah, you hab been a good mudder ter 
me,” said Pete, coming forward with true manliness, 
acknowledging her goodness and care. “ I hain’t for- 
got all yer has done fur me, an’ I hain’t goin’ ter 


GLENWOOD. 


321 


forget it, noways. I don’t want ter rob yer ob yer 
home, nur nnffin’ else, an’ I won’t try ter do it; an’ 
Tamer sha’n’t nudder. Dis was your home befo’ we 
was born, an’ it’s yourn yet. I nebber wants ter take 
it from you. You is wuff more dan a hull barnful like 
me, an’ can do more good. You is a Christian, an’ I 
ain’t. You is sure of Heben, an’ I hain’t, ’cause I 
hain’t good ’nough, though I duz try ter do right, an’ 
allers means ter. I’se allers glad you gibbed me dat 
poundin’ ter make me quit tryin’ ter chaw tobaccer. I 
is more decent widout it. I has saved all my four 
years’ wages, an’ I owes it all ter yer teachin’ me ter 
be sumpin’ ’sides a fool. 

Tamer wanted ter lib near me, ’cause she lubs me, 
humbly as I is, an’ I means ter be sumpin’ like a man 
yet. I drudder lib in de smoke-house, or de chicken 
coop, dan ter trouble you. Aunt Dinah ; ” and he laid 
his huge hand on her bowed head with all the tender- 
ness of a son. 

When he had done speaking there were no dry eyes in 
that small assemblage. There was as much tenderness in 
his voice as there was manliness in his words, though 
they were spoken in a manner peculiar to his race. 

“ I has nuffin’ hardly ter do,” said Dinah, half apol- 
ogetically, “ an’ I don’t want any one ter help me do 
it. If dar wasn’t company an’ any sich doin’s, I 
wouldn’t know whedder I was good fur nufSn’, or not ; 
an’ should ’spise myse’f. Dar wouldn’t be ’nough fur 
exercise, as Missy Glenwood an’ Missy Marg’et say ob 
darselbs. I couldn’t keep supple, an’ wouldn’t know 
how ter stan’ it, nohow. I don’t want no one ter help 
me, les’ de ladies says I mus’. Work mos’ does itself, 
I is so used ter it.” 

“Hot by any means shall any helper come,” said 


322 


GLENWOOD. 


Mrs. Glenwood and Margaret, unless you really feel 
that you would like some one to assist you. You shall 
not be troubled nor wounded in the least, and no one 
shall meddi? with, nor mar your happiness.” 

“ Not while I have a voice to lift against it,” said 
the master of the house in solemn earnestness. His 
great heart had been deeply moved at the scene before 
him. Your loving fidelity to us shall never be rewarded 
by any wrong on our part. Nothing can trouble you, 
without troubling us, to the heart’s core. You have 
been a true and faithful helper and friend, in sickness 
and in health. You have mourned with us in our sor- 
row, and have rejoiced with us in our joy, and while a 
merciful Providence spares our lives, and gives us food 
and raiment, you shall never want, whether you are able 
to work or not.” 

Press you fur dat ! ” said Pete. I is glad fur 
Aunt Dinah’s sake.” 

Margaret bowed her head to hide the fast falling 
tears, and Dinah lifted hers to look the thanks she 
could not speak; but the tears that trickled down her 
face were half of joy. She wiped them off on the small- 
est corner of her checked apron ; for even in her sorrow 
she had a care not to rumple it. Her soul was too 
deeply harrowed up to settle easily, so she gave another 
outburst of indignation against Pete, in spite of his 
manly efforts to assure her that he meant no wrong. 
The storm was brief, however, and subsided after a few 
more reassuring words, as she saw that none blamed her 
for her feelings, and all sympathized with her in her 
grief and fear. 

“ Dis worl’ is big ’nough fur Tamer an’ me, widout 
troublin’ you. Aunt Dinah,” said Pete, as a new thought 


GLENWOOD. 323 

struck him with no small force, if one might judge by 
his looks. 

“ How ’bout dat carriage house, Misser Glenwood ? 
Dat’s nice rooms, an’ a nice place, an’ nice trees near 
it, an’ looks good as any house, but maybe it’s too nice 
fur folks like us ; hut we won’t sp’ile it. I’se had a good 
bringin’ up, an’ is keerful; an’ so is Tamer. Two ob 
dem rooms will do fus’ rate,” and with a laughing 
glance at Dinah he added: “Den Tamer can kiss a 
feller, an’ not have Aunt Dinah jealyous.” 

Dinah threatened her old weapon, the broom-stick, 
but her attention was drawn in another direction, as 
Ealph Glenwood extended his hand to Pete, telling him 
there was the marriage fee for the minister who was to 
perform the ceremony. 

“ We can spare something from the house to furnish 
the rooms for you,” said Mrs. Glenwood. “ What we 
lack, I will supply, with your aid and approval, my 
daughter,” and she turned to Margaret with a beaming 
smile. 

“ Certainly, mother. It will be a delight to me to go 
hand-in-hand with you, in furnishing the new house, 
and have things in readiness for housekeeping in good 
time for the coming event.” 

Pete felt his inability to express his thanks, and 
bowed low as he mumbled with a choked voice all that 
he could think of in the way of expressing his grati- 
tude. 

“ There is a gift for the bride,” said Margaret, tak- 
ing a gold coin from her purse. 

Dinah flew upstairs as if she had suddenly gone mad ; 
and then plunged down again, as if her feet could not 
keep up with her head. 

She brought with her the pride of her heart, a pieced 


324 


GLENWOOD. 


bed-quilt of bright colors set with white, and presented 
it to Pete for a wedding coverlet, and five dollars for 
a wedding gift for Tamer, with the injunction that she 
must buy something that she could keep all her life. 

So the cloud of a short time before broke into rain- 
bows of gladness, scattering their glittering fragments 
over them all ; but most of all, on Dinah and Pete. 

“ I’ll clean dem rooms till dey shines like a gold 
dollar,” said Dinah, dat I will ; if dat clumsy Pete 
can ’have hisse’f.” 

Pete smiled audibly, and put his arm around her and 
gave a kiss that could be heard, as well as felt; show- 
ing that he had had practice somewhere. 

Dinah boxed his ears on the spur of the moment, 
and then checked herself, as she remembered that such 
things were proper on such occasions, and gave him a 
kiss in return, and wished him the largest amount of 
joy and happiness that she could express. 

Pete clasped her ample waist with his strong arm, 
and whirled her off in a waltz, without asking whether 
it would be agreeable or not. He whistled a merry 
tune, and kept time with it, as best he could, with 
Dinah’s squabbles to free herself, while taking steps 
that were never seen before in terpsichorean art. 

Mrs. Glenwood, Margaret and Ralph laughed till 
their sides ached. 

When at last, Pete seated his partner with a great 
fiourish of politeness, she was too much out of breath to 
use the broom-stick, but made many threats of what 
she would do, if he “ cut up any more ob dem shines.” 
She could not be angry, after such a burden had been 
lifted from her heart. She truly rejoiced at the pros- 
pects of Pete’s wedding and housekeeping ; and as usual, 
she began her sharpshooting. 




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GLENWOOD. 


325 


“Ton isn’t wuff as much, as pine shabin’s, an’ 
Tamer will fin’ it out so, afore long,” she said, half in 
earnest. 

Pete showed his ivories, as he always did, no matter 
how hard she hit. He was bullet-proof, and was ready 
to take all she sent. 

“ Tamer don’t fink as bad oh me, as all dat comes to, 
an’ nebber will, ’cause she luhs me,” he said, with ex- 
ultant pride. 

“ Hat’s ’cause she don’t know you as we duz. It’s a 
damage ter a clear conscience ter hah you’ roun’ ; an’ I 
allers know’d dat. How does you ’spose I’se gwine ter 
make peace wid my conscience after dancin’ wid you ? 
An’ how is I gwine ter look de preacher in de face, after 
all dis ? You orter hah a smell oh tar an’ fedders.” 

“ You is usin’ grape-shot now ; an’ hime-by my 
feelin’s is hurt,” said Pete, trying to sober his face to 
correspond with his words. 

“ You hain’t got no feelin’s, or you’d showed ’em 
afore dis time ob life. If you had any feelin’s, you 
wouldn’t make a pusson ob my age an’ ’sperience dance 
wid you, ag’in conscience an’ eberyting. I ’spec’s I’ll 
allers be mad about it.” 

“ I fought you would like ter take a turn wid me 
afore I is married, ’cause Tamer might be jealyous, if 
you waited till affer all dat had come ter pas, an’ I is 
her husbin’. You orter know’d dat much.” 

“ I ’spec’s ter take mor’n one turn wid you, afore 
dat time, wid de stick I brought you up wid. Don’t 
you ’spec’s I is powerful feared de preacher will hear 
about dat dancin’. Den what has I got ter say fur 
myse’f ? ” asked Dinah, with a comical look at Pete, 
who was bubbling over with laughter. 

“ Tell him you danced wid a pusson ob great note. 


326 


GLENWOOD. 


dat sees no wrong in sich t’ings, on ^special ’casions,” 
said Pete, with a show of gravity; then he sobered 
down so that he could talk, and be talked to, and again 
he renewed his thanks for the kindness shown him. 

“ What arrangements have you made for the wed- 
ding ? ” asked Ralph Glenwood, trying to smother the 
smile on his face, as he looked at Pete. 

much, sah, dat I knows oh ; ^cept we is ter 
hah de ceremony performed at de parsonage, dat’s all, 
I ’spec’s.” 

“ You may have dapple Charley and the buggy for 
a drive, if you choose. I am sure you will not over- 
drive the pretty fellow, nor abuse the confidence I re- 
pose in you,” said the master of Glenwood, looking 
thoughtfully at Pete, whose homely face showed the 
play of many emotions. 

Before Pete could stammer out his thanks, Mrs. 
Glenwood said kindly: 

“ There will be a wedding supper provided at your 
own table, in your new home. We will see that all 
things are in readiness, and Aunt Dinah will preside. 
You may invite friends and acquaintances of yours 
and Tamer’s, as you choose; only let us know the 
number we are to provide for, if that meets your ap- 
proval, my daughter ? ” and again she turned a face all 
love on Margaret. 

“ It does exactly, mother ; and I shall be happy to 
give my aid in anything I can do.” 

“ It meets my approval also,” said her husband, 

and I will render glad assistance in anything that you 
may suggest. This is a new event in our lives. It must 
not be ignored nor treated lightly.” 

Pete had been swallowing as if he were choked with 
something, and at last he managed to say: 


GLENWOOD. 


327 


A' lifetime wouldn’t be long ’nough ter ’press all 
de fanks I wants ter say. I is so full ob fanks, I kin 
hardly breave. Dey sticks in my froat, an’ chokes 
clear down,” and bis swimming eyes told the truth of 
his words. 

The good-nights were soon spoken, and the Glen- 
woods returned to the parlor, where they discussed the 
matter more fully, till the hour of retiring. 

In the days that followed, Dinah was in a flutter of 
pleased excitement, and felt the joy of having an out- 
let for her superabundant energy, and was eager to give 
in full play. 

Affairs moved in the right direction, as they gener- 
ally did, when she took the lead; and work was mixed 
with fun in about equal proportions. Dinah often de- 
clared in Pete’s hearing, that ‘^Dat good-fur-nuffin’ 
Pete wasn’t half flt ter git married, nohow; an’ de 
preacher orter know dat much, anyways. 

Mrs. Glenwood and Margaret were also busy prepar- 
ing the rooms for housekeeping. Dinah called it the 
black-birds’ nest,” whenever Pete was around to hear it. 

“ It ain’t ebery bird dat kin get his nest built so 
easy,” said Pete, with an air of triumph. “ You is 
jealyous, ’cause nobody ebber built a nes’ for you.” 

He had no time to say more, before there was a 
plunge for the broom-stick, but he was off, with a laugh 
that was echoed by Dinah, while Mrs. Glenwood and 
Margaret joined in, heartily and mirthfully. 

The rooms were ready before they were needed, as 
was usually the case where Dinah took the lead. Father 
Time had to go in her wake, and submit to being led 
by the forelock. She was too smart for him, even in 
looks ; the years went on without seeming to make her 
any older. 


328 


GLENWOOD. 


The new domicile that meant so much to Pete, was 
neatly furnished, and was pleasant and cozy. Mar- 
garet made snowy curtains for the windows, and sheets 
and pillow slips for the bed, where Dinah’s quilt glowed 
like a garden of poppies. As she looked at it, she 
often said in Pete’s hearing, that dat good-fur-nuflSn’ 
Pete wasn’t half wulT all dat ’spense an ’trouble, an’ 
dem nice fings, nohow.” 

Pete would laugh as if she had paid him the finest 
compliment. In fact, nothing seemed to disturb the 
serenity of his nature. He had no fault to find with 
the world. It was all right in his estimation, and he 
was glad that he was in it. 

Amid the hurry of work, no matter how great it was, 
he would pause a moment now and then, and take a 
look at the pretty nest of a home, and was as happy 
as he was thankful for everything. 

Dinah had trained him to keep ahead of time, which 
added greatly to his usefulness after it became an es- 
tablished habit; which caused him to be held in much 
higher esteem at Glenwood. 

He was glad that she never let him hang or dwadle 
over anything that needed to be done, but had him do 
it at once; and do it quickly and well, and ahead of 
time. How there was punctuality and reliability, that 
secured for him a permanent place, and made them feel 
that Glenwood could not do without him. 


GLENWOOD. 


329 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 

THE blackbird's NEST AT GLENWOOD. 

April came as full of whims and variations as 
usual. Her smiles and tears at last loosened the lin- 
gering grasp of winter, while he retreated sullenly to 
his stronghold in the far north, there to wait till 
the year should have time to do its appointed work, ac- 
cording to the Divine decree and loving promise of the 
Creator, that seed-time and harvest should not fail. 

The soft south wind brought the birds with it, and 
woke the flowers from their winter sleep, while brooks, 
fields and tender grass smiled at her coming. Soon 
May flowers were breathing their fragrance in sheltered 
nooks, and violets were blooming on sunny banks, while 
in the forests, the trailing arbutus nestled amid verdant 
mosses, complacently smiling at its own sweetness and 
beauty and the sheltered loveliness of its surroundings. 

The day for Peters wedding came, “ just when the 
other blackbirds were mating,^^ as Dinah said. Pete 
laughed at the comparison, which pleased him greatly, 
and went on blacking his shoes for the occasion with 
vigor that gave them a polish worth envying. He was 
trying to sing as merrily as the blackbirds in the old 
sycamore tree by the well, where they were holding the 
opening concert of the season, and pouring forth their 


330 


GLENWOOD. 


liquid melody, which is an ancient custom of theirs in 
the early springtime, after returning to their northern 
home. While they were singing, they were no doubt 
noticing the beautiful furrows that Dan, the foreman, 
was turning, the hired man following with another 
team, plowing for oats. 

Ralph Glenwood furnished the wedding garments 
for Pete, as another token of appreciation of his worth 
and fidelity to the best interests of Glenwood and the 
faithful care he had given the children, which was not 
forgotten in the category of his good deeds. 

Pete’s efforts to express his gratitude were pitiful, 
and when he was dressed in the new suit, for the great 
event of his life, he tried to speak his thanks again 
and again, with no better success, and then he pro- 
ceeded to the home of the bride with bounding steps. 

After the ceremony at the parsonage, a half dozen 
carriages drove to a small town some fifteen miles dis- 
tant — took dinner, and then returned to a nicely pre- 
pared supper for a score of guests. 

Aunt Dinah, resplendent in gay apparel, was in the 
glory of full-blown happiness, as the presiding genius of 
the occasion. 

When Ralph Glenwood looked in upon them, to ex- 
press his good wishes, a stalwart specimen of manhood 
in ebony called out for “ three cheers for Glenwood,” 
which were given with a relish and heartiness that Pete 
said was enough to start the tires of the carriage wheels. 
Aunt Dinah was greatly pleased at the demonstration, 
and was made doubly happy by the master of Glenwood 
accepting cake and lemonade. 

Pete, with his bride on his arm, came to pay their 
respects to Mr. Ralph Glenwood, who had never seen 
the chosen object of his affections. Tamer timidly ex- 


GLENWOOD. 


331 


tended her hand, as if afraid he would not touch it; 
but her heart was so full of gratitude, she did not 
know what else to do. Ralph Glenwood instantly 
grasped her hand, and gave it a hearty shake of kind- 
ness and good-will, to Pete’s intense delight. Ralph 
Glenwood could not help noticing how her hand trem- 
bled, while her lips quivered with emotion. She tried 
to thank him, in low, womanly tones, for his kindness, 
telling him that her heart was too full to wait for an- 
other time. He saw how hard she struggled for com- 
posure, as the bright face tried to appear outwardly 
calm, while she was so agitated with emotion that she 
was ready to break down in a deluge of tears. A few 
kindly and reassuring words from the man they all 
revered, soon put her at ease, and made her feel at 
rest and at home. After staying for a short time 
to witness the dancing, he politely bade them good even- 
ing, and left them to their own enjoyment. 

When he returned, Mrs. Glenwood and Margaret 
went to pay their respects to the company, and did it in 
the same charming way that they did everything else, 
which added greatly to the enjoyment of the dusky 
revelers in the newly-made home which meant so much 
to two of the party. A colored violinist furnished the 
music for the occasion, which was so inspiring that the 
dancing was kept up till a late hour. 

Pete and his bride were at last left to the enjoyment 
of their own home, to begin a new life under the shelter- 
ing protection of Glenwood, with the good wishes and 
good will of all. Though Pete wanted no increase of 
wages, the owner of Glenwood found ways enough to 
make it up to him, by supplying much of their living 
from the farm. 

Dinah found that there was room in her heart for 


332 


GLENWOOD. 


Tamer, as well as for the others, and really thought 
that Pete’s marriage was the brightest move of his life. 

Tamer began a polishing process with Pete, which 
resulted in a better pronunciation of words, so that he 
could say Mr. and Mrs. Glenwood the same as other 
people, instead of talking after the manner of Aunt 
Dinah. He could read and write well, and understood 
the common branches of English. Tamer felt consid' 
erahle pride in him, and in trying to have him show out 
the best there was in his make-up, or in his nature. 
He began to take an interest in reading, in order to 
know what was going on in the world, and to learn what 
had been done in the past. He exhibited a good deal 
of intelligence, that even Dinah was proud of, if she did 
call him a “ gump,” in spite of Tamer. 

He was not a promising boy in the beginning. His 
good sense and good judgment which she felt a special 
pride in, came late, in his case. He soon found great 
use for such qualities, and learned that brains are a 
wonderful help to the hands in all kinds of work as in 
everything else that pertains to the duties and business 
of life. 

Spring and summer passed much as usual, Pete’s 
marriage having made no great change in the even tenor 
of affairs, as Dinah at first supposed it would. Tamer 
was quiet and unobtrusive, and had the happy faculty 
of minding her own affairs. Her kind heart often 
prompted her to offer assistance and to do many favors 
whenever she could find an opportunity. 

In the autumn, Ralph Glenwood was elected State 
Representative, almost against his will; but when once 
elected, no man ever served his native state with more 
fidelity and zeal. 


GLENWOOD. 


333 


He felt that he could not leave all the treasures of 
his home behind him, unless necessity compelled it, so 
Margaret accompanied him on his sojourn at the Cap- 
itol, leaving home affairs in the care of Mrs. Glenwood 
and Dinah, and outside matters to Dan and Pete to 
oversee them. 

Margaret was too devoted to her family to stay away 
long at a time. She was uneasy, lest the care of the 
children should prove too much for Mrs. Glenwood and 
Dinah, and tried to prevail upon them to have a nurse, 
but they would on no account consent to it, saying that 
if extra help should at any time be necessary, they 
could call on Tamer. Eoyal and Florence went to 
school, while Roscoe and Lillian made the sunshine of 
home, in their absence. 

Ralph Glenwood and Margaret were missed sadly. 
The home-wreath was of rare flowers, lovingly en- 
twined, and fragrant with the incense of tenderest 
affection. 

Margaret was not a fashionable woman. Her tastes 
and inclinations were against it. Home was dearer to 
her than all the world besides. She loved its quiet shel- 
ter better than the bustle of the crowd, or the glitter of 
fashion or show, with its false lights and false allure- 
ments, wherein so little real happines is found. The 
haven of her earthly bliss was in Glenwood. She never 
cared to mingle much, nor long, with the outside world ; 
and in that respect Ralph Glenwood was like her. He 
was too grave and staid, and too thoroughly a man of 
business, and of research and study to care to waltz 
away life with the devotees of fashion, although he liked 
to mingle in society at times for recreation and change. 
It would not be long before he was eager for the restful 


334 


GLENWOOD. 


quiet of home, and the pleasant hum of business and 
of work. His nature was out of tune, and missed many 
notes of harmony, even in the full flow of health and 
spirits, without the balance wheel of business to keep 
the machinery of his organism in healthful motion. 


GLENWOOD. 


335 


CHAPTER XXIX. 

THE RETUEN OF MAEGAEET^S LONG-LOST BROTHERS. 

It was one of September’s loveliest days, with no 
perceptible change between summer and autumn, except 
that the air was balmier and more bracing, and the 
nights cooler and more conducive to sleep and rest, 
which summer’s heat had partly denied. 

Mrs. Glenwood and Margaret had been out driving, 
and at the same time had stopped to do some shop- 
ping. After their return, Margaret stepped to the mir- 
ror to arrange her hair. The soft wind had been play- 
ing with it as if delighted with its beauty. She was 
busy giving it the last finishing touches and replacing 
amid its glossy waves a cluster of pansies and fra- 
grant geranium leaves that Florence had placed there 
before she went to town, and not wishing to slight the 
gift, she put them in water, promising to wear them on 
her return. 

Florence came bounding in like a young fawn, her 
dilated eyes beaming, and a shower of bronze curls 
streaming behind her, making her a rare picture of 
loveliness. 

“ Oh, mamma ! ” she cried, “ we are going to have 
company. Two gentlemen asked if this were Glenwood, 


336 GLENWOOD. 

aud if Mr. Ealph Glenwood lived here? They are 
splendid looking.” 

“ N’ever mind, my dear. They have probably called 
on business like many others. Go on with your game 
of romps; you need the exercise. Eoyal said that you 
had practised your music a long time while I was 
away.” 

Florence was satisfied, and bounded out again, her 
feet scarcly touching the ground. As the gentlemen 
ascended the steps of the veranda, they could not do less 
than turn and look at her, in admiration of her wonder- 
ful beauty and sprightliness. 

Margaret glanced hurriedly around the room and saw 
nothing amiss. An exquisite bouquet was on each corner 
of the pier table, and though they were a gift from 
Florence and Eoyal, they were arranged with much 
taste and skill. Books and magazines were on the ele- 
gant center table; and what was most attractive to the 
eye, was a globe, where gold fish sported like glancing 
sunbeams. The piano was open, as Florence had left it 
when she finished practicing; but dearer, sweeter, love- 
lier than all, was the baby of four years, playing on the 
fioor, her hair a tangle of golden curls, with the blue 
eyes gleaming mirthfully through them. She was hav- 
ing a joyful time with doll and kitten, her sweet mouth 
parted with ripples of laughter, revealing the pearly 
teeth, while she knew nothing of her beauty, nor of the 
exquisite picture she made. 

As the gentlemen were admitted into the room, they 
took in the scene at a glance, and handed Margaret their 
cards, with their eyes looking longingly into the lovely 
face, making the glow deepen in her softly rounded 
cheek. 

,On one card she read Lawrence L. Gray, Counsel- 


GLENWOOD. 337 

lor at Law.” On the other card was the name of “ Nel- 
son S. Gray.” 

Margaret with rapidly changing color looked into the 
faces bending over her, and gave a low cry of joy as she 
detected something of the looks of the long-lost but 
never-forgotten brothers; but before she could speak, 
the bearded lips parted with a smile, and the one word 

Margaret.” 

But what a difference between the looks of boys and 
bearded men! She might have passed them a hundred 
times a day without suspecting or dreaming that they 
were related to her. She did not stop now for word 
nor look, but was in their arms, kissing and being kissed, 
when Ralph Glenwood came into the room, and for a 
moment stood dumb and spellbound with astonishment. 
Even baby Lillian looked on in bewildered surprise to 
see such conduct in her mamma, and the smile was 
gone from the rosy mouth; but Ralph Glenwood de- 
tected something in the dark eyes of the elder of the 
two gentlemen, a look of Margaret. Gentlemen they 
were, in look, culture and bearing, as well as in polish 
and refinement of manner, and he saw it at a glance, 
as he noticed the happy tears in Margaret’s eyes, telling 
him that the lost were found. 

She had no voice to utter a word. Her husband saw 
that she was mute with unspeakable joy. Before she 
could recover herself, the lawyer said with a beaming 
smile : 

‘‘ Please excuse us, sir. Our claim to Margaret was 
prior to yours,” and then they shook hands cordially. 
The elder brother did the same, Margaret still clinging 
to him, and looking first at one, and then at the other, 
as if she were not yet sure of what she saw, or was 
distressed with the fear that she might be dreaming. 


338 


GLENWOOD. 


This did need some explanations, or apologies, 
that’s a fact,” said Ralph Glenwood. It gives a man 
strange, or queer sensations to come in and find his 
•wife kissing other men, younger and handsomer than 
himself.” 

The laugh was a great deal louder than a smile, as 
the lawyer replied : “ That is so. I find that such 

things come into the courts of justice occasionally. It 
is not every man who is so ready to shake hands with 
the offending parties and bid them welcome to his 
home.” 

When Margaret came into possession of her faculties, 
and recovered power to speak, she handed the cards to 
her husband, and then opened a bombardment of ques- 
tions concerning the past, present and future, beginning 
with: 

Why didn’t you write ? ” 

Why did you get married, so that we did not know 
whom to write to ? ” 

“ Keep still, Kelson, and let me answer the ques- 
tion,” said the handsome lawyer. 

“ Margaret cannot wait for all a lawyer’s maneuver- 
ings and circumlocutions. She wants the answer di- 
rect,” said the older brother. 

“ I ought to have them just in that way, without a 
lost moment,” said Margaret, joining in the laugh with 
silvery sweetness, her long lashes still wet with tears. 
“ If you did not know where to write nor whom to write 
to, how did you know where to come ? ” 

Wait, little sister,” said Kelson, “ and I will begin 
at the beginning. There is not much satisfaction in 
talking to an attorney if you want straightforward 
■answers to your questions. This one is a miserable 
tease.” 


GLENWOOD. 


339 


The brothers exchanged smiles that lit up two very 
handsome faces, grand in the strength of manly beauty 
— fine and noble enough to delight the heart of any 
sister in the world. 

“ It will be a long story, if I tell it all. I am sure 
that it will weary your husband, if it does not weary 
you. Shall I tell it now, or wait till we are better ac- 
quainted ? ” 

“Now! ” almost sobbed Margaret, in eager entreaty. 

“ How can a woman wait ? added Ralph Glenwood, 
“ even if I could ? ’’ 

“ How can a man be so sedate while hiding his curi- 
osity behind a woman,” smiled Margaret, “ while at 
the same time he is eagerly waiting for her to find out 
something for him to hear ? ” 

“ You would make a capital lawyer yourself,” said 
Nelson, when the laugh had subsided a little. “ You 
have the qualifications for it, little sister.” 

“ Tell it all now,” again pleaded Margaret. “ I have 
sorrowed and grieved over your loss all these years. 
My heart was almost broken for a long time.” 

The manly faces settled into deep gravity, as Nelson 
Gray began the story that Margaret was so eager to 
hear: 

“ I was seventeen, and Lawrence was scarcely thir- 
teen, when we were told that we might step out into the 
world, penniless and alone; and there was nothing to 
do but obey orders. We were filled with but one 
thought, and that was to go to mother^s grave and die 
there, and take you with us, Margaret.” 

Margaret’s slender fingers tightened their clasp on 
the hand she held, as if she feared that the speaker 
might vanish into thin air. She had Nelson by the 
hand and the other brother under her eye, her whole soul 


340 


GLENWOOD. 


beaming in their liquid depths, her countenance show- 
ing pitying love and intense anxiety. 

Even wee Lillian was too much puzzled to go on 
with her play, so she permitted the kitten and doll to 
rest while she climbed into Ralph Glenwood’s lap, and 
nestled her pretty head on his bosom, as she tried to 
study out the mystery of what was going on. When she 
caught her mama’s eye, the dainty fingers tossed her a 
kiss, which brought a smile to the lips of all present, to 
see the loving sweetness of the act, as if she feared that 
something was wrong, and that her mother was in need 
of being comforted with some assurance of love and 
affection on her part. 

Nelson Gray went on with the story, in low, pathetic 
tones, as if it were a sorrowful memory, even yet. 

You remember, Margaret, it was in the autumn, 
and so late, at that, it was a poor time of the year for 
boys to look for work among farmers, with the hope of 
staying any length of time, so we thought it best to 
strike for some large town. After talking together over 
it, we decided to go to the city and try to procure per- 
manent positions, unless some farmer should offer us 
something to do to earn our board and go to school for 
the winter. We were determined to starve, rather than 
ask for even a crust of bread. We were both cold and 
hungry for more than one night, when, like our Re- 
deemer, we had not where to lay our heads, and our 
coverlet was the canopy of heaven, gemmed with stars. 
The city was far away, and there was no help for 
it, but to work and walk the whole distance. Lawrence 
had three cents, and I had nothing.” 

A low sob came from Margaret, when the coverlet 
was mentioned. She reached her other hand to 
Lawrence, and gave it a pressure that told the grip at 


GLENWOOD. 


341 


her heart-strings, as Mson proceeded with the story. 

“ We looked and asked for work, offering to take 
food for pay, fearing to ask for money, lest it should 
result in starvation, since there were two of us, and 
we knew that boy-help was not much in demand. 

“ The last place we asked for something to do we 
were wanted for two weeks to dig potatoes, husk corn 
and help to gather in the out-standing crops. 

The farmer was single handed, and behind time. 
He looked on our coming as a piece of good luck, and 
we were disposed to view it in the same light, or, better 
still, an answer to prayer. We were then not many 
miles from the city of Hew York, whither our steps 
were tending, while our hearts were proportionately 
heavy at the outlook and the uncertainty before us. 

“ We were in a poor plight for making a presentable 
appearance, even for work-day apparel, and we were 
footsore as well as heartsore. Lawrence had no shoes 
for all those weary miles of travel, and all the hard 
work that had filled the pauses by the way. My dis- 
tress on his account was very great. His uncomplaining 
patience touched me to the heart’s core. I felt sure that 
his lack of presentable clothing would stand in the 
way of getting him a position as office boy. I could 
think of no other situation for him, in a city where 
men are wanted for work instead of boys of his ?ige. 
Our clothing was not ragged, thanks to you, Margaret, 
but it was plentifully patched, except my coat, which 
was passable. 

‘‘ I felt that even the God of the fatherless had for- 
saken us. It almost broke my heart to look at the for- 
lorn and sorrowful child beside me, with his innocent 
face, so fair and sweet — ^just such as mother would like 
to kiss. It was so bitter to think that he was homeless 


342 


GLENWOOD. 


and shelterless with me, trudging and working by my 
side, with feet bruised and sometimes bleeding. I 
could see how sore his heart was, as the laugh and 
sparkle died out of his blue eyes, which grew large and 
mournful, while the corners of the mouth drooped with 
the weariness of sad thoughts, at the outlook into the 
unknown and uncertain future, with no home or shelter, 
when the two weeks^ work was ended. I tried to con- 
ceal my heartache from him, and cheer him as best I 
might, but I was too hopeless and dejected to even pray, 
except to send up the one voiceless cry : ^ God help us ! ^ 
and I could get no further. 

^^Help came at the darkest hour, when we were 
given the two weeks’ work, though it was terribly dark 
after that, and I could not think that life was worth 
living, except for Lawrence.” 

Margaret’s tears were falling fast, while she held 
the hand of each. Ralph Glenwood’s eyes brimmed 
over. He felt that he could weep as Margaret was 
weeping, and that it would be no disgrace to his man- 
hood. 

Baby Lillian called, “ Don’t kye, mamma.” 

“ Ho, darling,” answered Margaret, with a burst of 
sobs she could not control. 

“ Ho, no, little sister! It is all overwith now. "And, 
as the bard of Avon hath it : ‘ All’s well that ends 
well,’ said Lawrence, and then Helson continued the 
recital of the past, which was so eagerly waited for. 

“ The two weeks’ stay was a streak of good fortune 
for us. We were treated with kindly consideration, 
and when the work was closed up for the year, Hovem- 
ber had come, cold and dreary, and we knew that we 
must take to the outside world again. The lady gave 
Lawrence a full suit of clothes that her own son had out- 


GLENWOOD. 


343 


grown, who was then away at school. She had been 
waiting for a younger son to grow into them but seeing 
the need there was for clothing, she kindly and deli- 
cately urged us to accept them as pay for Lawrence’s 
services, while I received money for mine. 

“ In my thankfulness I could not have accepted the 
money, had it not been for our pressing need: I was 
almost overcome with joy, seeing Lawrence comfortably 
and respectably clad, after I had worried so long over 
it. I took a portion of my wages and bought him a felt 
hat, a pair of shoes, and a pair of trousers, and a vest 
for myself. They were cheap, and not of the best 
quality. They looked respectable, however, even if they 
were not serviceable, and that was sufficient. I bought 
a bottle of ink and blacked my sombrero, till it looked 
passably well for a boy who was only going to ask for 
work, and for hard work at that. We looked decently 
clad and were clean, so we wended our way to the un- 
certainties before us with lighter hearts and much 
thankfulness, which we expressed to each other, and 
thereby gained some faint hope for the future. 

“ I rejoiced to see the pretty boy beside me wear a 
brighter look, though I knew it was more from bravery 
than hope. I tried to keep up heart, and endeavored to 
make myself believe that all would turn out well. I 
could have carried him in my bosom, in my agonized 
pity for him, while fearing the moral dangers of a 
great city, even if I succeeded in procuring him a good 
position. My fears for the soul so pure and innocent, 
were far greater than the anxieties for the body, with 
its needs for food and raiment, though I was sure that 
his chances for the latter would be less than mine, as 
he was so much younger and smaller. 

“ We were not like so many of the boys of the pres- 


344 


GLENWOOD. 


ent day, who have more self-assurance, and daring, with 
no more sense or intelligence than boys possessed in 
former times. You may well think that we knew how 
to appreciate home and shelter, when they were ours 
once more. 

“ We reached the great, turbulent city at last, with 
its bewildering sights and sounds, its arteries of rail- 
roads and telegraph lines, keeping up a system of circu- 
lation with the outside world, its ships and sailing craft 
aiding the process. All had great interest for us. 
We longed to join the busy tide, and make two more of 
the world’s earnest workers. Pleasure was not thought 
of, except the pleasure of having the opportunity of 
earning a living. 

We could hardly realize that we were in the great 
city that has lured so many boys to their eternal ruin, 
with its gilded paths of vice, and the many pitfalls and 
snares to tempt the unsophisticated and the unwary. 
Yet boys were not so abundent then, as they are now, 
nor were the dens of sin decked out on every side with 
such glaring splendor illuminating the gateway of Hell. 

When we were in the narrow streets, I experienced a 
stifling sense of suffocation from an imaginary idea that 
it would not be possible to have air enough to breathe 
amid the high rows of buildings shutting out space, and 
cutting off the view of earth and sky, except the narrow 
strip overhead. It seemed to me that the hurrying 
throng of humanity could have but one idea, and that 
was to get out into wider space, in search of breathing 
room. But that thought was soon absorbed into the 
greater one of where to find a place to work and to live. 

“ Lawrence was my first care. I considered, too, 
that it was necessary for me to have a place near him. 
I wanted real work. 


GLENWOOD. 


345 


“ We had all seen enough of the effect of idleness and 
thriftless neglect at home. I did not care to learn a 
trade. My mind dwelt more on the thought that I 
would prefer going into a manufacturing concern, and 
begin at the bottom and learn the business through and 
through and work my way up to a position of trust and 
importance, with a thorough capability of filling it, and, 
at the same time, make myself worthy of it, by work, 
care, thought and study, as I had read of others doing. 

I found a factory where they would employ me, but 
I wanted to see one of the firm, instead of the agent or 
foreman, and was at last successful. I stated my case. 
He heard me with kindly patience that I have never 
forgotten. He told me to keep my own counsel, and 
that I should have my chance. He also gave me words 
of hope and cheer, which seemed to put new life into 
me at that dark time. 

“ I asked for a quiet boarding place for us, with no 
other boarders, as I wished to devote my spare time to 
study. He kindly procured it in the home of a poor 
widow who took in washing. She was afraid that we 
would not be satisfied with her very plain fare; but 
when her mind was set at rest on that question, she was 
glad to take us, thinking we were quiet boys, or we 
would not want to be away from the crowd. 

“ I thought of you, Margaret, and remembered the 
minutes you used for study and self culture, and though 
you probably thought you were forgotten, your presence 
and example were ever before us. That, with the 
thought of our lovely mother and her sad fate, was the 
spur that drove us on to try and make something of 
ourselves. 

“ When we began to reap the fruit of our labor, and 
had wrung from the hand of fate the promise of a 


346 


GLENWOOD. 


fairer destiny, we would have written to you, Margaret, 
only that we thought father might hunt us up with the 
expectation of living on our industry, as he did on the 
crushing labor of mother, till he robbed her of life and 
took from us her love and care when we needed it the 
most.” 

“ May God forgive him ! ” said Lawrence. 

“ How many times that exclamation has risen from 
my heart,” replied Kelson. 

“ We kept silent for six years, till the hunger to see 
you, Margaret, became almost insupportable, as we had 
the means of aiding you, if you were in need of it. 
We knew that we could do with less, better than you 
could do with nothing, or with a scant supply. 

I remember the gentlemanly deference that mother 
taught us to show you. I have often wondered whether 
other mothers do the same.” 

Lillian, after seeing that her mamma was not to be 
hurt in any way, crept softly down from her papa’s lap, 
and went to her play again, as if she had already lost 
too much time over things she could not understand. 

Kelson Gray stopped speaking, as he noticed the nerv- 
ous clasp of Margaret’s fingers, and the deepening color 
in her cheeks, betraying the intensity of her emotion. 

The great heart of Ralph Glenwood ached with pity 
for her, that showed itself in every line of his face. 

“ We would better defer the remainder of the story 
till another time,” said Kelson Gray. 

Kot if you have any compassion for me,” protested 
Margaret, with a pleading look that was hard to resist. 

“ There is a long story yet, my sister. We want to 
hear some talking on the other side, instead of telling all 
about ourselves first.” 

“Kot a word, till I hear the remainder of this.” 


GLENWOOD. 


347 


Margaret smiled and looked at her husband with a 
world of entreaty in her eyes, as if asking him to plead 
for her. 

He gave an answering smile, and nodded his head, 
but Lawrence shook his, in decided denial, which caused 
Margaret to try to subdue him into acquiescence. 

“ Hold your hand in mine, then ; and if I do not feel 
it tremble, he may go on.’^ 

Margaret did as she was asked, and the brothers 
smiled at her eager entreaty, so I^elson took up the 
thread of his discourse, as Lawrence called it when he 
asked him to proceed. 

“ We wrote two letters to you at last. One was re- 
turned from the Dead Letter OflSce, so we concluded 
that the family had moved away, and we gave it up. 
But the longing to hear from you, Margaret, increased 
with years. We bethought ourselves of writing to find 
out whether the minister still presided over his unprom- 
ising charge, and if he could tell us what had become of 
you. The answer to that letter brought us here for 
you to care for, for the space of three days.” 

“ Why didn’t you say nights too ? I shall want to 
sleep before that time expires,” said the lawyer. 

Margaret gave him a pinch to go with the laugh 
which followed his words, and Ralph Glenwood said 
with deeper sincerity : 

“ It is well that you considered that your best plan, 
my bretheren, instead of writing. I should have been 
after you, and that might have damaged my interests 
just now, more than the worth of forty days’ feed. I 
am expecting to close a business arrangement as soon 
as the parties arrive.” 

“ Success to you,” said the attorney. “ I am on hand 
to execute the papers and see that you are not cheated. 


348 GLENWOOD. 

If all does not go right, I can carry up the case for 
you/’ 

I am glad to know that we are ready for any emer- 
gency that may arise. We can at least frighten the 
parties into good behavior; and now, Margaret, shall 
the fatted calf he slain ? ” 

Yes, or the turkeys ; just which ITelson and Lawrence 
would prefer,” she replied, with her face transfigured 
into marvelous loveliness, with the new joy that filled 
her heart. 

“ IN'either, replied Lawrence Gray. “ Let the fatted 
calf kick up its heels and rejoice that we have found a 
sister and a brother, as well as nieces and nephews.” 

“ Exactly my sentiments ! Let the turkeys gobble 
over it also,” said Nelson. We could not wait for a 
letter to reach you, Margaret, after we had learned 
your address. The longing to see you and yours, ad- 
mitted of no delay, so we are here on your hands. Men 
are not usually trained to do much for themselves in 
the way of cooking their food and providing for their 
daily needs. If they can do nothing in the place of it, 
they are of all created things the most despicable and 
worthless. Yet how many are brought up, or allowed to 
come up, without being trained to do anything useful 
for themselves or others, or to do anything anyway. 
Soon the father of all evil teaches them crime, and they 
are called upon to render a little service for the state, 
with saddened faces and sorrowing hearts.” 

“ It is all too true,” assented the lawyer. Too 
many of the boys of the present day think they can ob- 
tain a living in some fanciful way, without working for 
it. A boy needs to be something besides well-born in 
order to make anything of himself. It requires per- 
sonal effort, and he should also be well governed and 


GLENWOOD. 


349 


well trained at home. He needs the wholesome dis- 
cipline of having something to do besides play and idle- 
ness, while mother and sisters wait upon him. He 
should he taught from his earliest years that he has got 
to work out his own salvation, spiritually and tem- 
porally. If they wait till he is grown up, he has im- 
bibed different notions as a general thing, and ruin is 
usually the result.” 

“ There needs to he a wholesome check put on per- 
nicious reading,” said Helson Gray, “ or a hoy would be 
better off if he could not read at all, though a certain 
amount of education is a necessary thing, if men are to 
take part in framing of the laws of our country.” 

“ Yes, ” assented Lawrence. “The startling statis- 
tics of crime among the young, points to this, with 
unerring finger, and shows the criminal slackness in 
home-government and training, and in watching what 
they read, and what company they keep. 

“ When these things are better looked after, there 
will not be so many sorrowing hearts in mourning 
homes,” replied Helson. “ The world has got to profit 
by these lessons, and reverse the old couplet, and let 
it read in the way of truth : 

All play and no worTc 
Makes Jack a lazy Shirk/ ” 

“ That runs in the leved groove of a mathematical 
certainty,” said Kalph Glenwood, laughing at the way 
the lines were uttered, as well as the truth they so 
tersely embodied. 

The world calls for men, and for skilled labor,” 
continued Nelson Gray. The trades should be open 
for apprenticeship for boys, that they may learn the 


350 


GLENWOOD. 


use of their hands, as well as the use of tools, and ac- 
quire habits of industry and application, as a matter of 
discipline, if nothing more — even if they never need to 
earn a living by it. A boy should know how to do 
something useful, and do it well, so that he could be 
proud of it. None of our great men have ever been 
ashamed to say that they learned a trade and worked at 
it for a livelihood, till they found that they were capable 
of doing something better. It is helpful to remember 
that Moses, the great law giver of the Israelites, was 
a shepherd for forty years, as was David the king and 
psalmist, who is spoken of as a man after God^s own 
heart.” 

There are men who have achieved greatness without 
learning a trade or doing manual labor, but those who 
have come from the farm, the work bench and the anvil, 
or have laid aside the shepherd’s crook, have received 
greater praise and honor, for theirs were the greater 
achievement. It is conclusive, that work does not 
hinder boy nor man from making something of himself, 
and it would save many more from crime, pauperism 
and disgrace. The young man who has only handled 
bat and ball, and the oars for a sculling race, is not 
fitted for the battle of life, nor to earn a living if it 
should be necessary, unless he has prepared himself for 
a business career, by hard drill and earnest study, or he 
has in view some other occupation, which requires men- 
tal, instead of manual labor. 

“ The senior partner of our firm has two sons, who 
are outcasts in the world, from having too much money 
and nothing to do. Their parents saw their error, when 
too late to remedy it. The heart of the father is 
steeled against them, while the mother, with almost 
ceaseless prayer, beseeches High Heaven for the prodi- 


GLENWOOD. 


351 


gals who are wandering afar from God and afar from 
home. That is the thanks which too many parents re- 
ceive for over-indulgence. Even good, saintly Eli was 
punished of God, for not restraining his sons. His 
whole family was punished with him, and he and his 
sons were destroyed. It ought to be a lesson to all man- 
kind, that his days were cut short in the anger of the 
Almighty. His righteousness in all other respects did 
not stand for him, in the neglect of that one important 
duty. 

“ I have been running away from my subject ; partly 
on Margaret’s account, as the tension was too great. 
But with all the sorrow I have witnessed in our sen- 
ior’s family, it stirs me up to some degree of earnest- 
ness, whenever I hear the subject mentioned, or come in 
contact with it, in any way.” 

“ Please excuse me a moment,” said Margaret, all 
smiles of joy, as she flew to the kitchen in eager haste, 
as lightly as if she were borne upon wings. She wanted 
to tell Dinah the glad news, and at the same time give 
orders for supper. 

“ Let it be elegantly gotten up,” she said, “ but do 
not call mother. Her head ached, and she has gone to 
lie down. I want her to have a good sleep so as to feel 
fresh for visiting.” 

Dinah was all delight because Margaret was. Her 
eyes fairly danced as she replied, shaking her finger be- 
fore her own shining face. 

“ Heber you mine ’bout dat supper, chile. I’ll show 
what I can do, in dat line. I’ll put dat Pete trou’ by 
steam. Tamer or no Tamer, see if I don’t,” and she 
laughed gleefully, as Margaret flitted back to the parlor 
in too great haste to lose a moment. 

She did not know that her brothers could scarcely 


352 


GLENWOOD. 


take their eyes from her an instant, except to look at 
Ralph Glenwood, whom they thought an embodiment of 
all that was perfect in manhood, if looks and appear- 
ances went for anything. They scarcely took time to 
look out of the great windows, and see the lovely land- 
scape they framed, taking in a view finer and more ex- 
tensive than anything they had ever beheld before from 
a human habitation. 

Mrs. Glenwood came down from her room, and hear- 
ing strange voices in the parlor, she went to the kitchen 
to learn who the callers were. 

“ Dey hain’t no callers,” exclaimed Dinah, dey is 
company — de grandest kin’ at dat. Missy Marg’et’s 
brodders has come. Royal says dey is grand gen’lemen. 
I finks dey is too, dar voices soun’s like it. Missy 
Marg’et looks heabenly, she’s so glad an’ happy. She 
been an’ tole me ter git up de bes’ kin’ ob supper. I is 
glad you has come ter tell jus’ how big a splurge I is 
ter make.” 

“ Get up as nice a supper as the time will admit,” re- 
plied Mrs. Glenwood. 

“ Den dat Pete has got ter come up ter time, or I is 
gwine ter know der reason why. One ob dem gobblers 
has got ter git out ob his fedders quicker’n he ebber 
picked up corn, an’ be hung in der win’, an’ air hisself 
awhile, afore he gits boosted inter de obben. De fines’ 
ob dem trout has got ter come out’n de fish pon’ in less 
dan no time.” 

So Pete was called and sent flying in many directions. 

Peaches, an’ pears, an’ grapes has got ter be picked. 
Cream has got ter go inter de freezer, quicker dan I kin 
say popcorn. 

You see all dese outside fings can’t wait a minute. 
I is gwine ter make a custid puddin’ out’n raisins an’ 


GLENWOOD. 


353 


seasoned wid lemon, dat’ll make dem gen’lemen fall in 
love wid dese ole ban’s. 

We has pie dat would make a king fall on de flo’ 
an’ fairly sneeze wid de joy ob eatin’ it. Dar is nice 
bread an’ good biscuit, dat can’t be beat, nor de cake 
nudder, so dat is all right. You jist go in de parlor an’ 
trus’ me fur cuttin’ a big swaff in w’at I is gwine ter do 
in honor ob Glenwood.” 

In a few moments, cream soda and lemonade went 
into the parlor with Dinah behind the tray in her finest 
apparel. 

After she had a glimpse of Margaret’s brothers, 
affairs in the kitchen moved as if by magic, so as to do 
herself credit in getting up a dinner that could be re- 
membered for a long time afterwards. 

“ You spoke of the fatted calf, little sister,” said 
IsTelson. “ We came to feast on the love that is ours by 
birthright, and will be well satisfied with the dinner of 
herbs that Solomon speaks of. Now that we have found 
you and yours, it would not lessen our happiness in the 
least. 

With your permission I will now finish the story of 
this lawyer we have with us. I have spoken of myself 
in the beginning, just as we eat the plainer food first, 
and reserve the richer and more appetizing portion for 
dessert.” 

You mean,” said Lawrence, “ that the substantial 
food came first, and it would be well in this case, as it 
would at the table, if it stopped there. We have 
usually eaten enough before the non-essentials are 
served.” 

That may be meant for, me, then,” replied Nelson. 
“ I come into the story again, at the end of the chap- 
ter.” 


354 


GLENWOOD. 


“ I will leave the room if you are going to talk 
about me,” said the man of law, ‘‘ and let you do it be- 
hind my back, as people usually do.” 

He did not look as if he took it very seriously to 
heart. He had been slyly trying to coax a witching 
little fairy into his lap, and had pretended to admire a 
rather battered looking doll that she was so proud of, 
hoping in that way to gain favor in the eyes of its 
pretty owner. 

It was a fitting place for the fairy little creature on 
the soft carpet, that seemed woven with vines and 
mosses from the cool, fragrant woods, with brilliant 
roses interspersed among them, looking so lifelike and 
beautiful, it seemed that treading upon them might 
crush out their fragrance and beauty. It was in keep- 
ing with the elegance of the room, with its rich up- 
holstery and rare pictures and adornments, without re- 
gard to outlay or expenditure. 

The brothers noticed it all when they first entered 
the room, and saw with pride and pleasure the sweet 
womanly beauty that had blossomed into rare perfec- 
tion in the atmosphere of love and prosperity that had 
surrounded her. 

Lawrence caught sight of the children playing on 
the lavm, and stepped out of the glass door to play with 
them for awhile, till his story was finished. 

“ After I had procured my position in the mill, I was 
not sure of entering it,” said Nelson. “ I knew I must 
give it up, if I could not find a place for Lawrence near 
enough so that I might keep some oversight of his daily 
life, and have him board with me. I thought him too 
young to work in the mill, and have only nights for 
study, though that would have been far better than to 
go to school and be loose on the street between times. 


GLENWOOD. 


355 


I felt that it would be wronging him, if I did not give 
him the best chance possible, with his bright intellect 
and manly ambition, so I sought a place for him as 
office hoy with a lawyer or doctor, as I at first intended. 
I applied to a legal gentleman of high repute, who was 
in partnership with one of scarcely less eminence. 
They wished to secure the services of a boy who would 
like a permanent position, as long as boyhood should 
last. The senior partner did not want one who had no 
home. He desired a hoy who had parents who would 
compel him to come at a proper time and in proper 
condition. Strict punctuality and neatness were req- 
uisite to secure the place, and to ensure success, if he 
desired to work his way up, or make anything of him- 
self. He was of the l^lief that the labor of others to 
induce him to come up to the point in such particulars, 
would he more than his services would he worth. He 
was sure that a hoy’s power of self-government is us- 
ually too small to he trusted very far, or to amount to 
anything, if left to himself. 

Besides that, the price paid for a hoy’s services,” he 
said, “would not he considered sufficient compensa- 
tion for his board, if he did not board at home, but the 
remuneration was all that his services were worth, and, 
unless he was above the average, one ought to receive 
pay for having him around and being bothered with 
him. 

“ I told him that Lawrence could hoard with me at 
a low rate for plain fare, and I would see that he came 
punctually and in a proper condition. I gave him the 
recommendation of being of a genial and pleasant dis- 
position, cheerful, willing and obliging, and of good 
courage. Hever any sulks nor ill temper, and in ad- 
dition to that, he was quick of movement, comprehen- 


356 GLENWOOD. 

sive, and possessed of a large fund of energy and am- 
bition. 

“ The legal gentlemam smiled, and said if he pos- 
sessed half of the good qualities I credited him with, 
he was disposed to try him, and if he held out well, the 
place would be his, till he should reach manhood. Then 
I told him of our homeless lot, and of our lives in the 
past, and what we wished to make of ourselves in the 
future. He assured me that if we adhered to our reso- 
lutions, he would aid and counsel us in our studies, as 
he had time, and would rejoice in our success. 

He advised the study of law for Lawrence, and 
urged his beginning early, and study it through and 
through in connection with his other studies. He had 
me call him in, from where he was standing in the hall. 
He questioned and cross-questioned the pale-faced little 
applicant, who was fairly wild with delight at the 
thought of studying law and being a lawyer. The 
honorable gentleman was greatly pleased with him, 
though not elated. He had probably seen that many 
boys promise fair, and hold out in the same way as long 
as the novelty lasts, and then it is ended. He no doubt 
had fears in this case. 

“ I told him where we were to board, and why we 
had chosen the poor widow’s silent home. The board 
would be very plain as well as cheap, and we were used 
to no other. The lawyer smiled and looked thoughtful 
as well. He drew up papers for us to sign, in true 
businesslike style, and Lawrence was to enter into his 
engagement at once. 

You can see that our twelve years in Mrs. Day’s 
humble home, and living on plain fare did not retard 
our growth, and we are sure it did not lessen our 
strength.” 


GLENWOOD. 


357 


Margaret and her husband had been admiring their 
fine proportions, and thought with pride how strong, 
manly and noble they looked. 

“ It was evident that you have lost nothing by it, 
neither in strength, health, height, heft or breadth of 
shoulders,” said Ralph Glenwood, smiling with new- 
born love for the brothers, whose hold on his affections 
reminded him of David and J onathan. 

“ We have had perfect health, and have lost no time 
growling over indigestion,” said Nelson. We have 
indulged in no vices to injure our constitutional vigor, 
not even tobacco, in any form.” 

“ When the question was settled for Lawrence, I was 
too thankful for words, and took new hope, with a 
brighter view of life. He entered into his studies with 
great zest, and did not fall off in his good resolutions 
nor in his desire to give satisfaction. He knew what 
we had left behind us; the future promised something 
better, if we did our part towards it. He soon became 
a great favorite with the lawyers, for his energy and 
faithfulness, as well as for all his other good qualities. 
He was always the same, and every time alike. He 
was patient, thoughtful and cheerful ; saw what needed 
doing without being told over and over, and was will- 
ing and obliging. His quick wit and cheery laugh was 
a perpetual delight to those grave disciples of Black- 
stone. It was not long before he was invited to take a 
walk with them. He supposed it was to bring back some 
parcel, and so it was. He brought in a bundle the 
clothing he had been wearing, which was still to be worn 
when out of office hours. He was dressed in a new 
suit; even to congress gaiters, which he said would 
surely turn his feet for Congress, where he intended to 
land himself with the other Honorables, before he 


358 


GLENWOOD. 


should reach the noon-mark of life. I wanted you, 
Margaret, to see how handsome he was. I wondered if 
mother could see him, and rejoice as I rejoiced over 
his good fortune and fine prospects. 

“ He was to recite to me at night. I could not do 
less than give him great praise for earnest application, 
good lessons, great diligence and correct deportment, at 
all times. He was a remarkable boy, and won the 
praise of all who knew him, and he deserved it. 

“ He had outside errands enough to give him plenty 
of exercise. They were executed with faithfulness and 
despatch, and with cheerful celerity and gentlemanli- 
ness that won the hearts of the lawyers without re- 
serve. If people were rude to him, as they sometimes 
were, his soft answers and gentlemanly bearing put 
them to shame. 

** Mrs. Day charged us considerably less for board 
than the wages paid Lawrence per week, so that he had 
enough to furnish clothing and something over to put 
in the savings bank. It was but a small amount, it is 
true. Many boys would have spent it in candies and 
other dainties to eat, but Lawrence did not. In time, 
he had a goodly amount for books, or for sickness, or for 
any other need that might occur. 

“ He was to furnish his own dinner, as he could 
not be spared from the ofiice at noon. We would not 
allow Mrs. Day to put up his noonday meal, for fear 
she might deem it necessary to furnish better food than 
she could afford, for appearances sake, on account of the 
eyes of others. Lawrence was too honorable to scrimp 
himself and make up for it at night, by greediness, so 
he would buy a loaf of rye bread and a dried herring 
or an apple or any other fruit in its season that did 
not cost much. With painstaking care, he would lay 


GLENWOOD. 


359 


aside the loaf for other meals till it was gone. The 
lawyers laughed and joked over his frugal fare, but 
Lawrence was never ashamed where there was nothing 
to be ashamed of. 

They at times asked him to dine with them, hut 
he politely declined, till the years of boyhood were 
passed. They liked the manliness that was not ashamed 
of his food, and truly honored him for his self-denial. 
They told him that he would know better how to take 
care of his money, when he got it. They were sure it 
would come, and so it has. 

“ Lawrence would sometimes ask the legal gentlemen 
to dine with him, when they joked him so often. They 
claimed that they were past such things, but told him 
to go ahead; and he has gone ahead, in every sense of 
the word. He is, and always has been, a grand, noble 
fellow, and we are all proud of him. 

“ The senior lawyer did his best to advance him in his 
profession. He was of great aid to me, also, in di- 
recting my studies. 

“ It was in his heart to do more than he did for 
Lawrence, but he thought it not best to make it too 
easy for him. He believed that self-help is the best 
help for boys, as a general thing. 

“ Lawrence did his copying and other work with 
such dexterity and precision, that it left him much time 
for study, which was well improved and brought him a 
rich harvest at last. 

“ After a time, our poor, faded star of destiny began 
to be in the ascendent, and gradually grew brigther, 
making our hearts glow with happiness. 

‘‘ The night after our positions were secured and we 
were in our boarding place, at peace and at home, I 
was too rejoiced to sleep. 


360 


GLENWOOD. 


“ Though I was not a Christian, I gave thanks nearly 
all the night through, while Lawrence slept like one 
almost worn to death. 

“ The widow’s plain little home seemed like a palace 
to us in its perfect neatness. Her warm, motherly wel- 
come won our hearts at once. 

“ Lawrence was out of the office long hours before 
my days of hard work were over. He would come and 
help me, when Mrs. Day had no errands for him to do 
and had no work that he could assist her in. We made 
it a practice to give a helping hand whenever we could. 
I believe that she loved us as if we were her own. We 
never took liberties with anything, and strictly avoided 
making ourselves obtrusive, and always treated her with 
deference and respect. We could see that her worn 
and sorrowful face always looked brighter for our 
coming. 

“ The senior lawyer said that he never loved the 
boy as he did when he called at our boarding place after 
office hours, and found him scrubbing the floor with 
all his might, just as he did everything else. He had 
asked for the worn-out office brooms, but the lawyer 
never knew what he did with them till then. 

“ The great and good man was woefully disappointed 
in his own sons, the same as the senior of our firm. 
He carried a heavy load on his heart. He often said 
that Lawrence far outstripped his expectations. He had 
made the path too easy for his own. It ended disas- 
trously for the boys, and for all the great hopes that he 
had cherished for them. They were swallowed up in 
the gulf of his sorrow and regret, like a ship foundered 
at sea, so that both lawyers took all the more pride in 
the ultimate success of Lawrence. 

“ You cannot think how the blue eyes and sunny face 


GLENWOOD. 


361 


would cheer me when he came to lighten my work with 
the sunshine of his presence, as well as with the use of 
his hands, when I was doing anything that he could 
assist me in. He was fond of using his young muscles 
in labor which added strength to his growing frame, 
though he expected no pay for it. He was often told 
by meddlesome people not to do it, hut it made no 
difference. His work did not pass unnoticed, however, 
as we supposed it would. More than once a package 
was handed to me containing cloth for a suit of clothes 
for Lawrence. He knew as I did, that it would be rude 
not to accept it, so we would have it made, with thank- 
ful hearts; but Lawrence felt that he had done noth- 
ing to merit it. He has not gone through the world, 
measuring every move, and counting its worth, and 
whining over it for fear it would be forgotten of God 
or man. Whatever he has found to do, he has done 
with his might. He was never the one to stop and 
look, and turn back, because there were lions in the way. 
He has met them- with energy and force enough to 
drive them out of the way. His executive ability is 
something marvelous, and is the outgrowth of persist- 
ent effort and determination. 

“ He began the study of law while he was yet a 
child, but I think we all dropped the mantle of child- 
hood at our mother’s grave.” 

I know we did,” said Margaret, with tears in her 
eyes. 

God bless the boy and the man ! ” evclaimed Ralph 
Glenwood, who had listened like Margaret, with fathom- 
less love and pride, rejoicing at every step of this 
younger brother’s progress, onward and upward, as it 
was related to them by Nelson. 

No man of his age knows more of law than this 


362 


GLENWOOD. 


blue-eyed and sunny-hearted brother of ours. He 
stands high in his profession and is greatly sought 
after. He has found, as Daniel Webster once said: 

‘ There is room at the top.^ He has reached it, and I 
am proud of it.” 

“ And so am I,” echoed Ralph Glenwood and Mar- 
garet. 

“ He has never been a trial nor a trouble to me, nor 
to any one else,” continued Nelson. “ His moral nature 
is as grand as his intellectual faculties. His heart is 
too thoroughly good to do anything but right. He never 
gave me any anxiety, by staying o£F with other boys 
while I was at work. No persuasion of theirs could 
move him. He has caused many others to say of him, 
as you did just now, brother Ralph — God bless the boy! 
The lawyers used to say it of him, often, as did Mrs. 
Day, our landlady. 

“ He was graduated at the university with high 
honors. The senior lawyer would have him go, though 
the firm did not like to spare him. He long ago paid 
all his indebtedness, and is now well ahead in the 
world. Great things are predicted of him on a higher 
plane of eminence. Mrs. Day always said that he was 
too honest to be a lawyer, but honesty pays, even there. 

“ He has always said that he would never marry till 
he could find some one like you, Margaret, so you see, 
little sister, that you are the star of womanhood that 
has guided us back to you at last.” 

Margaret bowed her head on Nelson’s knee, and wept 
like a child. Her heart had been overflowing, and now 
the flood gates were open, she could hold it in checli 
no longer. It was a sunshower of happiness and joy, 
while the black eyes and the blue eyes bending a^ve 
her sparkled with unshed tears. 


GLENWOOD. 


363 


Life was too serious and earnest with us to think of 
sowing that detestable crop, called wild oats,” said Nel- 
son, “ so we have nothing to repent of, that could be 
classed under that head. Manhood opened pure and 
fair before us, and has been all the brighter for it. 
Real work and hard study have brought us their reward 
at last, and we are satisfied with it. 

“ My work was hard, but I took an interest in it 
and loved it, because I was determined to succeed and 
learn all that there was to learn in regard to the busi- 
ness. I did not leave the mill as soon as the hands 
were dismissed, but stayed to see what needed to be 
done afterwards. I found that many things were to be 
picked up and put in place to save trouble and loss 
at another time. When I did get home, I was often too 
tired to study, as I have no doubt David Livingstone 
was, who became the glorious Christian missionary and 
explorer. His long day’s work in the factory were even 
longer than mine. 

I would eat my supper, and take a walk in the 
open air, till I was glad to sit down and rest. I could 
then study without very great fatigue till a late hour of 
the night. I was careful to see that Lawrence retired 
early while he was so young, though he usually studied 
with me till his earlier bedtime. 

‘‘ Certain evenings in the week he rested as I wished 
him to, while I read aloud, as I was going through a 
course of reading. It was really a great pleasure to 
Mrs. Day to listen to it, and that made it a greater satis- 
faction to us. 

“ I paid for half of the coal when the weather was so 
that a fire was necessary, and I also furnished the 
lights. I know that she felt it a great help, though I 
could see that she was sometimes uneasy, thinking that 


364 


GLENWOOD. 


I would feel it a burden, so sbe tried to dissuade me 
from it, but without success. 

I feel sure that the donations which came to her 
door were from the liberal hand of the senior lawyer. 
It was always a puzzling mystery to her. She did not 
know that she had a friend in the world who could do 
such a thing, or who would do it, if they could. 

“ A turkey and many other things were sure to come 
Thanksgiving, and a goose for Christmas. A barrel of 
flour came I^Tew Years, and a ton of coal twice at least, 
during the winter. If the lawyer could have seen the 
good woman^s joy and gratitude, it would have glad- 
dened his very soul. We rejoiced as much as she did 
herself. He kept the secret safe in his own bosom, but 
the widow’s Christian heart offered up many prayers 
for the large-hearted doner, and longed to thank him 
and tell him how it had cheered and strengthened her, 
and made less rugged the weary path of life. 

“ Our twelve years’ stay carried us well along into 
manhood, and then, to our great grief, we buried her. 
Sorrowfully and tenderly we laid her to rest after a 
brief illness. She had been to us a second mother, and 
had given us a mother’s love and solicitude, and had 
made for us a home. Long before that, we had pre- 
vailed upon her to give up taking in washing, as we 
were able to pay a better price for board. In the mean- 
time, her crippled son had come home from an institu- 
tion and evinced much manliness of spirit, working at 
the shoemaker’s trade to aid his mother, so that she 
could live comfortably without extra work. It was not 
long before better furniture was purchased, making it 
a pretty home, and it had always been a peaceful one.” 

Dinah came in and picked up Lillian from the floor 
and took her out to be dressed for tea. One pretty little 


GLENWOOD. 365 

hand patted the ebony cheek lovingly, while the other 
was fondly thrown over the broad shoulder. 

As she was being carried out of the door she tossed 
kisses to Margaret, and was all smiles and dimples, 
happy in seeing others happy. That was something 
that she could understand. All else had been a mystery, 
and she had been greatly puzzled over it from the first. 

Kalph and Margaret still kept the look and attitude 
of listeners, and soon !N’elson Gray continued the story 
of their early struggles. 

“ I began at the beginning, low down, as it was my 
wish,” he said, “ and worked my way through every de- 
partment and learned all that there was to learn con- 
cerning the large manufacturing business carried on by 
two men of wealth and influence, whom to know was to 
love for their integrity and kindness. 

‘^At last I was nearly struck dumb with astonish- 
ment at the offer of general superintendent of the con- 
cern with a good salary. After awhile, I asked if I 
might apply my salary towards purchasing an interest 
in the business and live on what I had laid by till it was 
gone. My proposition was acceded to, till I became 
third owner. One of the partners will retire in the 
spring, and then I am to have a half interest in a large 
and flourishing manufacturing concern, though I shall 
be somewhat in debt. I still hold the post of superin- 
tendent, which has kept me too busy to allow me to get 
into mischief, though I have contemplated taking a new 
departure. Thursday of next week, I am to marry the 
only daughter of the senior partner, and cite you to 
appear at my wedding, as Lawrence expressed it on our 
way here. I have waited long enough to choose well — 
don^t you think so ? ” 

Kalph Glenwood and Margaret expressed their con- 


366 


GLENWOOD. 


gratulations, and thought he had delayed it sufficiently 
long so that he might take the step with proper dignity 
and enjoy the prize he had won. 

In addition to that,” said the master of the house, 
“ we give you all honor for the paths you have both 
chosen, and welcome you to our home and hearts as 
Glenwood’s most honored guests.” 

Lawrence Gray stepped into the door in time to hear 
the last remark, and bowed with Nelson in acceptance 
of the welcome and the compliment it implied. 

Mrs. Glenwood came in to bid them welcome in her 
own behalf, and she also invited them out to tea. She 
looked her loveliest in rich satin, elegant lace and lav- 
ender ribbons. The charm of her manner was irresist- 
ibly pleasing to a remarkable degree. It was one of her 
characteristic graces which served to put people at their 
ease in her presence, and caused them to look upon her 
as a friend rather than a pleasant acquaintance. What- 
ever she said bore the seal of sincerity, rather than the 
empty form of politeness. 

The children were called and greeted their Uncle 
Nelson with loving demonstrations, and then the 
young merrymakers left the room to prepare for tea. 
Fairy Lillian was dressed in white, with blue ribbons, 
the color of her eyes. She considered herself well 
enough acquainted with Uncle Lawrence to sit in his 
lap, greatly delighted with his company, and was mak- 
ing herself agreeable as his equal, at least, chatting as 
if she had known him all her life. She was telling him 
of dolls and kittens, and asking him how many he had 
in his home. 

The children came from Dinah’s hand as fresh and 
sweet as dew-washed flowers, and were just as beautiful. 

Ralph Glenwood gave his arm to his mother and led 


GLENWOOD. 


367 


the way to the dining room. Nelson Gray followed 
with Margaret, and Lawrence came next with baby 
Lillian in his arms. She seemed greatly in love with 
him, and was interspersing her gleeful chatter with 
sundry kisses which the lawyer did not object to, in 
the least. Royal followed with Florence in a dignified 
manner, but in spite of his assumed gravity, there was 
a twinkle in his eyes to match the smile that wreathed 
the lips of Florence, who was always as full of laughter 
and dimples as a brooklet is of song. Dark-eyed little 
Roscoe came last. They were permitted to eat with the 
others, with the stipulation that they were to be satisfied 
with the food most proper for them. They were trying 
to repress their tumultuous joy over having two uncles 
of whom they had never heard. 

Margaret had not spoken of her brothers in the 
presence of the children, as she did not wish to have 
them know that she had not heard from them in years, 
and knew nothing of where they were. 

It was a bountifully spread table, and was a sight to 
please the eye with the lavish display of the fruit and 
flowers of Glenwood, with the rich coloring that Sep- 
tember brings, to correspond with the trees and forests 
which glow with the dyes that paint the sunset and gild 
the dawn. The many and various products of the farm 
were served up in appetizing food, delicious enough to 
please the palate of anything reasonable in the shape 
of mortal. 

There was a solemn hush, and even Lillian’s dimpled 
face was reverently bowed, till the golden curls hid the 
splendor of its marvelous beauty, and Ralph Glen- 
wood’s deep voice, with softened cadence, asked a bless- 
ing on the repast before them. 

Pete waited on the table, and was obsequiously at- 


368 


GLENWOOD. 


tentive. The brothers thought it the most delicious re- 
past of which they had ever partaken. Love sat at the 
hoard, and crowned the feast with a flavor of its own. 
It shed the halo of enchantment around them, giving 
something of the bliss that makes the heart feel its 
kinship with heaven. 


GLENWOOD. 


369 


CHAPTER XXX. 

MAKGAEET^S BKOTHEES VISIT THEIE BIETHPLACE. 

The time the brothers had allotted for their stay 
came to an end, all too quickly. Short as it was, there 
were drives and calls, and parties given in their honor. 

Lawrence Gray met his fate in the bright eyes of 
the lovely being whom he was sure existed for him 
somewhere, and who was possessed of the high qualities 
that he looked for in a wife. 

When the time came for the departure of the brothers, 
they felt an irresistible desire to visit their mother’s 
grave and pay their respects to the Alvertons, who had 
aided and cheered Margaret, in the struggles and trials 
that beset her in her efforts for an education. They 
knew how precious the books and music had been to her, 
as well as the Alvertons’ friendship and affection. In 
addition to that, they wanted to look on the home of 
their birth, where they had played in early years, when 
a homemade ball or a rude sled was the highest ambi- 
tion of life, before they began their early struggle for 
existence. They longed to see the room where their 
heaviest sorrow had come to them, in their mother’s 
death, and to see the door from whence they stepped 
out into the world and were set adrift without chart 
or compass to guide them. Never in life could they 


370 


GLENWOOD. 


forget the dreariness and desolation that overshadowed 
them like a pall of darkness, on that cold, autumn 
morning. They knew that there was no one in the 
world to care for them, but Margaret, and they must 
leave her behind them. They were bidden to go with- 
out letting her know it, and without writing to her 
afterwards, and they could sink or swim as best they 
might. They had none of the exalted ideas that possess 
so many boys of the present day, who can so easily cut 
themselves loose from the ties of home and friends, and 
face an unknown and untried future, without strength, 
tact or skill, to make their way in the world, and who 
only succeed in going to ruin in the end, in most cases. 

Margaret would, at the present time, have gone with 
her brothers to visit the barren spot, fruitful of sad 
memories, were it not for the preparations that were 
being made to attend the approaching marriage of Nel- 
son Gray in the city of New York. 

When the brothers arrived at the parsonage, it took 
some time for the clergyman and his wife to realize 
that the gentlemen before them, with their ease and 
polish of manner, were really the forlorn brothers whom 
the dying mother had left to the cold mercies of the 
world. They had not forgotten their dreary childhood, 
with no home-love, except that of the sister who was all 
heart and womanliness from her earliest years. 

After making a pleasant call they wended their way 
to the churchyard where their mother and baby sister 
had slept, while they had done battle with the world 
and had won a place and position in it. 

Keverently they knelt by the flowery mound, and 
were surprised to read from polished marble the name 
that was engraven on their hearts, and the word 
“ Baby ” that told of the little sister, whose memory 


GLENWOOD. 


371 


seemed to them but a dream. In, and through it all, 
they read the story of Margaret’s love, who could turn 
aside from the pleasures of the world and the happiness 
of her own home and loved ones, and plant flowers, and 
erect marble as a loving tribute of affection to the sleep- 
ers beneath. 

The brothers softly caressed the blossoms and plucked 
bud and leaf to take with them into the busy world 
again. At last they reluctantly turned from the sacred 
spot with their hearts drawn closer to God, for their 
visit to the silent resting-place of the dead. 

They called again at the parsonage to see the Min- 
ister and take kindly leave of him and of his family. 
At parting, N’elson placed a roll of bank notes in the 
Clergyman’s hand. Lawrence handed double that 
amount to Mrs. Alverton. 

The astonished recipients could not speak at first, 
and when they recovered power to do so, they were at 
a loss for words, except to put in a protest against re- 
ceiving it. 

It is our donation and our church dues in the past, 
and for ministrations to our mother in her illness. 
It is the least we can do, to show our gratitude. We 
could not have done even this, nor anything, perhaps, if 
our efforts had not been crowned with success.” 

We did but our duty to your mother, and do not 
feel it right to accept anything for it,” said the Clergy- 
man. We did it cheerfully while she lived, and sor- 
rowfully and pityingly when she died.” 

“ We have been overwhelmed with kindness from 
Mr. and Mrs. Glenwood, so much so that we have 
never found words to express our gratitude,” said Mrs. 
Alverton. 

“ If they have not neglected you, so much the better,” 


372 


GLENWOOD. 


replied the lawyer, smiling. We can have it to re- 
joice over also. It does the heart good to know that we 
can aid one another while on the journey that leads in 
hut one direction, till we reach the border-line of time. 
We do not all realize our common brotherhood as we 
ought.’’ 

“ We wish you to accept our offering, as you no 
doubt accept all that you possess, as from God,” said 
Nelson Gray. 

‘‘ Please think of it as from mother also,” said Law- 
rence. “ Neither the living nor the dead in our family 
had much to give for the support of the gospel, and' 
some of us nothing at all. We have just visited her 
grave. We ask you to believe, as we do, that she speaks 
through us in this offering.” 

The Minister’s voice failed him. Tears were in the 
eyes of Mrs. Alverton, so that she could not speak at 
all. After a struggle for mastery, the Clergyman with 
uplifted hands asked such a blessing upon them, as they 
had never heard, which made them feel of a truth how 
much more blessed it is to give than to receive. 

After the brothers had taken their leave, they turned 
their steps to the old home, to see what changes time had 
wrought in the years that had passed away. They did 
not intend to make themselves known to any one. They 
were sure that their own father would not recognize 
them, even if he should meet them face to face. 

They called at the door to ask for a drink of water, 
while at the same time they wished to obtain a glance 
within where their mother died. They thought of all 
she had suffered there, beneath that time-worn roof, 
and their hearts grew bitter towards the man who now 
occupied it with the woman who gazed at them without 
dreaming who they were. 


GLENWOOD. 


373 


They thanked the stolid-looking girl for the water, 
and placed a silver piece in her hand and turned sor- 
rowfully away. 

They strolled around the place for a short time, 
talking of the past with grave and serious faces, their 
hearts saddened with old memories that they would fain 
have cast aside forever. 

They crossed the field by the dilapidated barn, and 
went their way with more speed than in the never-to-be- 
forgotten time, when they did not know where to go, nor 
which way to turn, and when there were none to aid 
them in their search for shelter and for work. They 
did not regret their struggle to conquer circumstances 
and improve their condition, but they would never have 
rusted in idle-brained inactivity anywhere. They were 
born alive and had kept alive ever since. 

They deeply regretted that their mother could not 
have lived to share their prosperity, feeling what a 
noble incentive it would have been to spur them on, 
with her love, and the smile of her favor for recom- 
pense. 

They were glad to go their way again to their busi- 
ness and their work. They rejoiced over every mile 
they traveled, which brought them nearer to their labor, 
and further from their early home. 


374 


GLENWOOD. 


CHAPTER XXXI. 

NELSON okay’s MAEKIAQE. 

'On Tuesday of the following week, Ralph Glen- 
wood, Margaret and his mother, started for the city to 
attend the wedding of Xelson Gray. It was a delight- 
ful affair, and not wanting in elegance. The bride was 
in full flower of mature loveliness, and possessed gifts 
of mind and heart, which far outweigh personal beauty, 
as every woman realizes when beauty fades. Xelson 
was sure that he had waited long enough for his happi- 
ness, so he wanted it the more perfect when it did come, 
as there was less time to enjoy it. 

Mrs. Glenwood insisted that Ralph and Margaret 
should stay in the city for some days of sight-seeing and 
pleasure, and that she would flit home to the children. 
She was always sure that they could not do without 
her. 

Lawrence Gray was just as sure that he could not do 
without Ralph Glenwood and Margaret for a time, at 
least. Mrs. Glenwood sent word that all were well, and 
urged them to stay as long as they wished, that Mar- 
garet might enjoy the new happiness of again having 
her brothers whom she had long mourned as one mourns 
for their beloved dead. 

Nielson had modestly withheld the facts in regard to 


GLENWOOD. 375 

his own achievements, and the high estimation in which 
he was held bj all who knew him. 

Lawrence told them of many things concerning him, 
which made them rejoice over his high attainments, and 
exult in his success. 

They found much to enjoy in the society of Lawrence 
and his hosts of friends, while their elder brother and 
his bride were on their short wedding tour, too happy to 
give much attention to the rest of the world, except need 
or distress should come in their way. 

The courts of justice soon claimed the busy lawyer. 
Ealph Glenwood and Margaret took the train for home, 
where they were to make preparations for a wedding 
party in honor of Nelson Gray and his bride, who were 
to return to their city home by the way of Glenwood, 
where many of the bride’s friends were invited to meet 
them. 

To Lawrence Gray there was a double attraction in 
a pair of hazel eyes, that, like lode stars, had been en- 
chaining his thoughts and drawing him thither. He 
could not lose consciousness of their influence, even 
amid the vexed questions of equal and unequal rights, 
which often find their way into the courts of justice, 
and do not so easily get out again. His learning and 
his almost incessant drill from childhood up, made such 
things plain and easy for him, so that he was not fagged 
or worn with the rush of business, as might otherwise 
have been the case. He managed difficult cases with so 
much talent and ability that a high position of honor 
was predicted for him in the near future. Work was 
a pleasure instead of a task. 

His fame had preceded him to Glenwood, where 
bright eyes and fair faces grew brighter for his coming. 


376 


GLENWOOD. 


which was no new thing where he was better known in 
metropolitan society. 

There had never before been such a party at Glen- 
wood. Margaret looked every inch a queen. The dia- 
monds she wore were not brighter than her eyes, nor 
more dazzling than the happiness that lit up her face. 
She had so basked in the atmosphere of love, that she 
seemed scarcely older than on her wedding day. Her 
brothers could with difficulty make themselves believe 
that with her girlish face and figure and her youthful 
looks she could be the mother of the four happy children 
who laid claim to her. 

Helson and Lawrence Gray were as proud of Mar- 
garet as were Ralph Glenwood and his mother, who 
could not forget the joy she had been to them since the 
dark and dreary day she started for Lowell, alone, dis- 
consolate and almost heart-broken. 

Mrs. Glenwood was as sweet and lovely in her 
ripened age, as youth is, in its most glowing beauty. 
Her gentle heart and well-stored mind made her a de- 
sirable friend and companion for old or young. 

The guests were delighted with Glenwood, in its 
grand and homelike beauty, and the wonderful scenery 
that surrounded it. They were charmed with the noble 
hearts that dwelt beneath its roof in peace and harmony 
— a little one side from the rude jar and jostle of the 
world, where its fret and tumult did not reach them, 
and the pure air seemed never to have vibrated with a 
discordant sound. 

The children were petted and admired enough to 
spoil them entirely, had they not been accustomed to it 
from their birth, so that it did not set them above the 
natural simplicity of childhood. They were just such 
children as one would expect to find in a home, with 


GLENWOOD. 


377 


refined and cultured parents, and always under the care 
of judicious love. They were beautiful, intelligent, 
well-bred, as well as well-born; yet they were children 
throughout; full of childish vivacity and fun. They 
were taught to respect the rights of others from infancy, 
making it the keynote of a perfect character. Prompt 
and implicit obedience was exacted from the first. It 
became easy, for they knew no other way. Love ex- 
acted it, and love rendered prompt compliance. It 
is not so easy a matter to obtain such results where 
careless servants have the rule and impose their own 
commands, and try to enforce compliance by threats, 
which only incite rebellion. If that does not do, 
they change their tactics and purchase a temporary 
truce by bribery, or giving them something to their 
hurt. 

The city friends were prevailed upon to prolong their 
stay for a few days. Summer still lingered in caressing 
touch with lovely autumn, while the perfect days 
seemed to invite the human heart to enjoy them to the 
utmost. 

There were parties, picnics and drives to visit many 
points of interest, and a goodly company of friends 
and acquaintances participated in them. 

Lawrence Gray was the lion of these occasions, as 
well as at the social gatherings that were gotten up in 
honor of the guests of Glenwood. 

Mothers had wishes for their own daughters as they 
looked into the blue eyes of the brilliant lawyer. They 
did not know that his heart was already taken captive 
by Dr. Bradley’s dark-eyed daughter, whose tender 
heart fluttered like a caged bird, whenever his beaming 
glances rested upon her. They read each other’s hearts 
as if they were an open book spread out before them. 


378 


GLENWOOD. 


It was a new sensation to Lulu, as well as to the busy 
lawyer, whose affections had hitherto been safe in his 
own keeping. 

Aunt Dinah was as full of energy as ever. She did 
herself great credit on this occasion, as on all others. 
She did not object to Tamer’s assistance at such times, 
though she would have none of it. in the everyday af- 
fairs of life. 

The good soul felt the same joy in showing her skill 
and ability as in times past. She told Pete, “ she 
’spected nuflBn’ else, only dat she was goin’ ter dance at 
de weddin’ of his fust gran’chile.” 

Pete said that it was because she was so proud of 
having danced with him before he was married, when 
Tamer did not know it, and feel jealous “ an’ scole him 
fur dancin’ wid udder wimmins.” 

There seemed to be an understanding between Law- 
yer Gray and Lulu Bradley, that his visits at Glen- 
wood and its vicinity would not be at long intervals 
thereafter. When the Doctor shook hands with the 
lawyer at parting, it proved to be a lengthy affair. He 
hung on long, and repeatedly urged the legal gentleman 
to come again, and come often. 

“ Certainly, with your permission,” replied the law- 
yer, coloring to the roots of his hair, in greater embar- 
rassment than he had ever felt since he pleaded his first 
case in law. 

“ With my permission ? Yes, indeed ! Come when 
you like, and the oftener the better,” was the Doctor’s 
response. 

** Perhaps you do not understand my meaning.” 

Understand you ? Yes, twice over. Been in the 
same fix myself, and knew that there was but one satis- 
factory way out of it. Marriage is what you are think- 


GLENWOOD. 


379 


ing of. I was so distractingly homely and so blunt of 
speech, I didn’t make much headway till the opposite 
party saw that my heart was better than my manners or 
my command of language. You don’t labor under such 
disadvantages. Your mirror shows you half of that 
fact, and your good sense can tell you the remainder. 
I’ve never been sorry that I fought my way through the 
delightful misery, till my hopes were crowned with 
success.” 

The lawyer laughed and the Doctor laughed still 
louder, and then burst forth in his own characteristic 
way of speaking. 

“ Got to lose the girl some time or other, and lose her 
in just that way. I have never entertained a doubt of 
it, as I said before. Things have gone on in the same 
manner since the flood. They didn’t seem to have good 
regulations before that time, or the world wouldn’t have 
had to be destroyed, and begin over again. I often 
wonder how much worse people could have been then, 
than some of them are now, though I don’t tire my 
brains with such questions very often. I leave them to 
others, while I follow my own line of business.” 

Then may I try to win your daughter ? ” 

“ I s’pose so ; though I am in no hurry to lose her. 
Got but two. I see your keen eye is on the best one. 
S’pose it’s a lawyer’s penetration that detected it. The 
other one is a little peppery in disposition. Takes after 
me, so her mother says ; but I never set my splinters in 
a way to mar the peace of home. The man who does it, 
is a fool. I keep the points turned towards the world 
when it charges too heavily upon me. I make no at- 
tack. I am like a hedge-hog in that particular. I harm 
no one, unless I am hit hard first, and if I see it is done 


380 


GLENWOOD. 


on purpose, I set my quills so that some one gets hurt 
if they do not let me alone.” 

Lawyer Gray laughed as he listened to the Doctor’s 
description of himself, and felt just a little uneasy in 
regard to his own case. “ Then you do not object to 
my paying my addresses to your daughter with the view 
of marriage, do you, if I can win her heart ? ” 

“ Object ! ISTo ! I thought I told you so in the first 
place, but you are the first man I ever cared to see com- 
ing around on that errand. Two or three have been 
here before, but she was off at the other side of the 
pasture, pretending not to see it, and I was glad of it. 
She comes to the bars now, whenever your handsome 
face is around. If you can slip the halter over her 
pretty head after a reasonable length of time, and all is 
satisfactory on both sides, you can lead her into any 
edifice where there’s pews, instead of stalls, and where 
there is a parson who understands buckling bit and 
bridle on both sides, for a double harness, and doing it 
well; and buckling it a little tighter on the off side, 
where the strongest horse is to pull, and do it so as to 
keep him well in the traces, — then I have nothing to 
say, only don’t be in too big a hurry. You can’t have 
her, unless your love is made of the material that is en- 
during. ITever let me discover in her, any signs of 
heartache for the want of a husband’s love or kindness. 
If you do — just have respect for my strength and fight- 
ing weight; that is all. 

‘‘ Excuse me if I have spoken roughly. That is my 
way, though my heart is all right underneath. It has 
been kept tender with loyalty and sympathy for the sex 
that my mother, my wife, and my daughters belong to. 
I have seen broken hearts and heartache among them so 
often, that my own heart has been made to bleed with 


GLENWOOD. 


381 


theirs, poor things ; though they try to hide it even from 
us doctors when we want to cure them — while we know 
that only Heaven can do it, when the world and its sor- 
rows are shut out, and they have passed beyond the 
Jordan of death.” 

Lawrence Gray took the hand of the Doctor’s in a 
vise-like grasp of reverence and respect, as he said, in 
solemn tones : “ I shall never forget your words. Dr. 
Bradley. I shall not ask your daughter’s heart and 
hand without being sure that she has my heart in re- 
turn. I am positive of it now, though I am willing 
that time should test it. It is a duty that I owe to her, 
as well as to myself. There is nothing in law so painful 
to me as divorce cases. Next to that, are foreclosures, 
where money has been paid, and struggling hearts have 
tried to save the imperiled home, while interest has 
eaten like a cancer and payments could not he met. 

“ As for flirting, I never engage in it. I hold a wo- 
man’s affections too sacred to he trifled with, as I see 
that you do. Doctor. I thank you for the permission 
to woo and win your daughter, if I can succeed in doing 
it.” 

“ You are welcome, and a thousand times welcome, 
sir,” responded the Doctor. “ Don’t think my way of 
speaking of the marriage service was meant irrever- 
ently, for it was not ; though I am aware that it sounded 
so. I am not a professor of religion, though I have a 
profound respect for sacred things. I am somewhat 
rough of speech, though I mean no harm. I am built 
rough; you don’t have to look twice to see that fact. 
It’s as plain as daylight and darkness. Every separate 
hair stands out stiff and straight on its own individual 
responsibility, so as to look as ill-tempered and disagree- 
able as possible.” 


382 


GLENWOOD. 


The Doctor and the lawyer both laughed, and shook 
hands again in a warm grasp of mutual respect, that 
never grew less as years went on. 

Lawrence took some rapid strides to reach Glenwood 
in time to go to the city with the other guests. He 
found on his arrival that there was no time to spare 
without missing the train. 

Margaret was sure that they would see him again 
soon, unless his happy face belied him; and so the 
good-byes were said and the guests were gone. 


GLENWOOD. 


383 


CHAPTER XXXII. 

LAWRENCE GRAy’s WEDDING RALPH GLENWOOD IN 

CONGRESS. 

In the months that followed Nelson Gray’s marriage, 
there was much visiting back and forth. 

Aunt Dinah declared as of old, “Dar nebber was 
sich times, nohow.” 

Preparations were being made for another wedding, 
which was to be at the home of Dr. Bradley. It was 
to be followed by a wedding party at Glen wood, on 
the anniversary of Margaret’s wedding day. 

White chrysanthemums gleamed in snowy beauty in 
Margaret’s hair, and on the corsage of her dress, and 
looped in graceful folds, the lace drapery of her skirt, 
to please Ralph Glenwood on that happy occasion. 

It was a high carnival of pleasure and rejoicing. 
Lulu was gladly taken into their hearts in warm, sis- 
terly affection. Even Mrs. Glenwood called her daugh- 
ter in a way that charmed the little beauty. It pleased 
Lulu still better to hear Lawrence called “ my son,” in 
such tender, motherly tones. Mrs. Glenwood seemed 
to have adopted the brothers from the first, as they had 
no mother, and she wished to make them feel still 
nearer and dearer. Nelson thought that their size 
ought to make them desirable objects for adoption. 


384 


GLENWOOD. 


They were deeply touched with the compliment so 
tenderly paid them, and called her “mother” in re- 
turn, as she wished them to. They did it with rever- 
ential love and devotion, that could hardly be surpassed 
in affection or tenderness. 

Dr. Bradley did not fail to tell them that he was com- 
bustible and irrepressible in temperament and disposi- 
tion, and declared that his present happiness was likely 
to extinguish him entirely. 

His eyes often rested in loving pride on his pretty 
daughter, as did the eyes of Lulu’s mother and sister. 
She moved amid the gay throng with her noble looking 
husband, and was charmingly radiant in her happiness 
and beauty. 

“ I am surpassingly glad to be the owner of such a 
son without the expense and trouble of bringing him up 
and educating him,” said the Doctor. “I really like 
the full-grown article much better than the little snubs 
who are so often snubbed, and they need it too. It is 
a world of trouble to raise and educate them, and then 
not know whether they will ever amount to anything or 
not. His odd speeches and joviality kept them all 
laughing till it became a side-aching affair to the whole 
company. 

“ See here, my boy,” he exclaimed, “ I forgot to tell 
you that I am a plain man, and not rich at that ; but if 
you are anything of a lawyer, you could have seen both 
facts for yourself, and not put me to the shame of tell- 
ing you. I want to say that I can’t furnish anything 
better than silver buckles for the harness I have been 
telling you about. The check-rein needs to be of steel 
in all cases. I have looked the matter over, and find 
that the material is remarkably good. I have noticed 
that the texture is fine and strong; and is of the 
kind that will bear the pull and strain of everyday 


GLENWOOD. 


385 


life. A coarser article has a looseness of fiber that will 
cause it to give way after a longer or shorter space of 
time, and become utterly worthless; while this will be 
as enduring as long life.” 

“ I thank you heartily, Doctor, for the pretty com- 
pliment paid to Lulu and to me,” said the happy bride- 
groom. ‘‘ I beg of you to give yourself no uneasiness 
about the buckles. I can find ways and means for all 
that, myself. In giving Lulu, you have given enough. 
I am joyfully content and satisfied.” 

I believe you are sincere,” said the Doctor, with a 
sharp look into the frank, open countenance before him. 
“ You shall fare all the better for not expecting too 
much. Forgive a father’s pride when I say that Lulu is 
worth her weight in gold — I mean Troy weight. She 
is too precious an article to be weighed avoirdupois. 
ISTow if you are not too proud, nor ashamed to call such 
an old chestnut-burr by the really handsome name of 
father, here is my hand, and may joy go with you, now 
and forevermore. I have a very sick patient to attend 
to. Good-night.” 

Lawrence Gray grasped the short, thick hand, with 
an earnestness that there was no mistaking, and the 
Doctor was gone, while a laugh followed him like a 
pleasant dream of youth. 

Pretty Lulu was all the more loved at Glenwood for 
the almost idolatrous affection she showed her husband, 
whose very soul bowed down in homage to the witchery 
of her charming ways and sparkling beauty, as well as 
her sweet womanliness, which was blended with the 
mirth and joyousness of childhood, whose years were 
leli; but a short distance behind her. 

The Glenwoods had but few family connections, 
and they were far away, and not near of kin. Mar- 


386 


GLENWOOD. 


garet’s new-found brothers were a great source of pride 
and pleasure to them, as were Christahel and Lulu. 
The loving regard was returned in full measure ; so the 
circle of kindred atfection ripened and blossomed into 
family union, sacred and holy. 

In the course of time, cherub forms came to share 
the love of new homes, and fill the niches in fond hearts. 
There were nieces and nephews; and cousins for the 
young Glenwoods, who became cousins in turn for still 
younger claimants for the title. The golden chain of 
affection was extended link by link as time passed on; 
and as yet, the hand of the destroyer had not broken it. 

Mrs. Glenwood and Dinah still felt that time dealt 
tenderly with them. They were as active and earnest 
as ever, and were kept young at heart by finding them- 
selves of great use in their different spheres. 

Mrs. Glenwood felt herself a queen, crowned with 
priceless jewels, as she looked on the treasures of her 
heart and home, and asked no more of earth. 

For some years Margaret had spent her winters in 
Washington with her husband, who was at first chosen 
member of Congress, and afterwards Senator. These 
were positions that he was eminently fitted to fill, with 
his masterly intellect, and his sterling integrity, ability 
and learning. His ripened wisdom and knowledge had 
long been sought for in various places in the direction of 
public affairs. He was kept well in the harness, in spite 
of his love of homelife in the quiet of beautiful Glen- 
wood. 

Royal was seventeen now, and was taller than his 
mother. He was rejoicing in the thought of being 
ready to enter college with the youngest son of the Rev. 
Mr. Alverton, who was to be educated for the ministry 
at Ralph Glenwood’s expense, as his elder brother had 


GLENWOOD. 


387 


been, and who was ready to go as a missionary to India. 

Florence Glenwood was fifteen, and though of an 
awkward age, she was a marvel of sweetness and beauty, 
having the same angelic disposition that had charac- 
terized her from infancy. Dignified little Roscoe, with 
his staid, manly ways, was called “ Judge ” and was 
like his grandfather. Judge Glenwood. Lillian was a 
dancing sunbeam, with golden curls, laughing eyes, 
dimpled cheeks and sweet disposition. 

Ralph Glenwood’s hair had just begun to show the 
frosts of a little more than half a century which had 
crowned him with abundant wealth and honor. 

His love for Margaret had known no diminution. It 
was as warm and tender as when their marriage vows 
were spoken, and their lives indissolubly blended into 
one. Years had taken nothing from him, in personal 
appearance. His form was as noble and erect, and his 
gentlemanly bearing as dignified and perfect as ever. 

Margaret’s beauty had ripened into rare perfection. 
Her sweet womanly loveliness was adorned with all the 
graces of her cultured mind and heart, which, with hei 
early self-discipline had made her seem scarcely lower 
than the angels in her glorious womanhood. Her gentle 
heart was still keyed to sympathy with human suffer- 
ing, and her hand as of old, was ever ready to relieve 
the sorrowing and distressed. In the home where sho 
is still the light and center; her children rise up and 
call her blessed, and her husband also, and he praiseth 
her.” 



A Truly Great Stor^ 


“THIS WAS A MAN!” 

By HATTIE HORNER LOUT HAN 


His life was gentle ; and the elements 
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— Shakespeare 


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